Eternity for your pleasure
by ElnaKernor
Summary: Damon and Alaric have to deal with the daily Mystic Falls' shit, their strange friendship, and things that the hunter seems to be keeping to himself. But while the vampire is investigating his strange behavior, realizing how much they care about each other won't be so simple...
1. ATOR, part 1 : Why was that?

**_Okay, right, so I'm crossposting this from AO3, where I actually made it into different parts of a serie, but I'm being lazy and I will only make one story here. So far, Adjusting to our reality is done, and Each a monster is halfway done. There supposedly will be at least five different parts, that is, if I don't give up and discontinue; I hope I won't._**

 ** _Oh, and, I haven't reread it, nor have I become English or American over the night, so my mistakes and errors are still there. Just saying._**

 ** _Right, one last thing: rated M mostly for violence, death, but also occasional sex between the main oftn, mind you, but it's there nonetheless._**

* * *

 _Begins post season 1, might or might not follow the actual story_  
 _A simple friendship between a vampire and a vampire hunter can lead us anywhere, and right now, it's just going astray. Because the characters from the Vampire Diaries are so unlucky, they have every rights to be a little strange._

 _Summary 2.0: Damon and Alaric have to deal with the daily Mystic Falls' shit, their strange friendship, and things that the hunter seems to be keeping to himself. But while the vampire is investigating his strange behavior, realizing how much they care about each other won't be so simple..._

* * *

 _I am really hesitant to post this, because, you know, english is by no means my mother tongue._  
 _So sorry if there are grammatical errors or anything else, but right now, my best allies are the Internet and a dictionnary, and I tried my best._  
 _Hope you won't mind, and, above all, that I didn't write too much atrocities._

 _And, well, I had so much fun writing this I couldn't let it go to waste.  
_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 1: Why was that?**

Damon took a sip of alcohol.

He always did that when he didn't dare to stare, absent-minded, at Alaric. Not that he would want to do this, but lately, it has just happened more and more often. Why was that? He had no idea. It was simply bound to happen, sooner or latter. It had always ended up happening.

And that was always pretty awkward.

Last time Alaric saw that he was staring at him, he gave him such a glare!

The thing was that the vampire had killed him. And he had slept with, and turned, his wife. In fact, he pretty much was at the core of how fucked up Alaric's life turned out to be. Like, the second worst thing that ever happened to him.

The first one being, obviously, Isobel Flemming.

Seriously, what was the problem with that woman?

Damon was okay with the whole "IwannabeavampireIbegofyouplease" thing, he could understand that. Anyone who had seen him would want to come closer to his awesomeness. But he himself became a vampire for the sake of love. Not that it did him any good, but it wasn't the issue. If she had turned Alaric against his will, he would have understood. If she had him turn her in order to be with her loved one forever, he would have understood.

What she did after that, he couldn't understand.

Well, truth to be told, he had no say in the matter.

Because the worst of all was that, back then, he didn't give a shit about the husband. He didn't even know Isobel was married. Or maybe he did, and didn't give a shit nonetheless. Wasn't interested in knowing, or remembering, or caring.

Now he knew the guy, and couldn't say so anymore.

Damon had had his fair share of bullshit in his own love life. Katherine messed it up for sure by playing him as she did. So the vampire had felt strangely similar to Ric for some time already. He might even have felt, kind of, guilty. Just a little bit, of course.

He was Damon Salvatore, after all. He was supposed to be a heartless bastard.

He couldn't afford to grow emotional about a goddamn vampire hunter.

Once again, what was the matter with Isobel?

She had just pissed him off by threatening people he would never ever admit out loud that he cared for. Maybe that was the reason why he was searching for every single way to belittle her.

And one of those, surprinsingly enough, was listing Alaric's qualities and grumbling at how she had been a fool to get rid of such a fine man.

Rick was almost as awesome as Damon himself, the vampire admitted it after their first fight together. He was still the best one out there, but the man had earned his place in team badass. Considering he was only a human, Alaric was a damn good fighter.

Surely, back in the day, he would have had no difficulty to protect his wife if he had to. In a normal world, in a normal life.

Damon had seen the man with Elena's aunt, Jenna.

Ric was gentle, caring, not too intrusive, and willing to do so that it would work between them. If he wasn't so obsessed with hunting down vampires, he would have been a perfect man. Same thing with his drinking habit, it all came from Isobel's treason.

Discarding him was definitely a foolish move.

Damon thought of drowning himself in his glass of bourbon, because all this story remembered him of Katherine. But it was too much troubles, as he wouldn't die of it.

On the bar stool next to him, Ric was obviously considering the same idea, but with a much more fatal outcome. Either way, he wasn't paying any attention to his drinking buddy at this point of his drunkness.

Damon allowed himself to take a look at the man's face.

Comparing handsomeness, he guessed.

Alaric's features weren't striking or anything, but he was simply handsome. In fact, there was nothing beautiful about him, except his whole being. Every single thing, in its rightful place.

Nose. Eyes. Forehead. Lips. Jaw. One hell of a neck.

Damon bit down his own lower lip. Not the time, not the place for bloodsucking. Not the right person, either. Unless he wished to get staked. Or at least vervained.

And, damn, why would he want to tear into the hunter's neck?

Aside from the obvious reason, that is, to kill the one who tried to kill him. A classic move, according to his own, personal archives. But, well, they were even, since Damon had punctured one of Alaric's lungs, some time ago.

And really, if he wanted to kill Ric, he would more likely break his neck. Sounds way more damonish this way. The vampire only went at the throat of women, if possible young and beautiful, unless he had no other choice.

It was so strange, thinking of all these perfect, normal, logical reasons, and yet feeling the thirst growing, simply overflowing his mind.

Ric was startled by the sound of Damon's head encountering his glass of bourbon. He looked up from his own glass to see the vampire with his nose in a puddle of alcohol, clearly conscious yet unwilling to raise his head.

The glass was swinging on the board of the bar counter, almost empty.

Damon's nostrils were filled with the scent of bourbon, and that wasn't such a bad thing. For a second, he thought this could put his thirst away. So he planned on staying in this position for a little while. At least, in order to gain some time, and, maybe, get the black veins under his eyes to go back to their original state.

As he already pointed out, this was definitely not the right place to go vampire-mode, even if he restrained himself and managed not to go after anyone throat in the bar.

So the vampire stayed still for a while.

Alaric glanced at the rolling glass, at the black hair already soaked with bourbon, at the curve of Damon's nape.

Then he looked up to the barman, who was not even looking in their direction, as if he had received the order not to notice the vampire unless this one was asking for another drink. That was probably the case. And it would explain the fact that he hadn't ever interrupted them when they were talking about troublemakers with sharp fangs. A very cautious move from Damon, as bartenders tend to hear and recall more than they're supposed to do. Things would end up poorly if some of their conversations were spilled to the sheriff. Especially the ones concerning dead people, not-so-dead people, and people who-souldn't-be-dead-but-were-nonetheless.

All those things crossed Alaric's mind, but at this precise moment, the man wasn't exactly thinking. The alcohol had made his way to his brain since an awful lot of time, many drinks before, and was successfully blocking the path to realisation.

Who would have thought, looking at the motionless head, at the pale skin of the vampire's neck, at the ridiculous position, that Damon was a ruthless killer who had lived for more than a century and kept himself alive and attractive by literally vampirizing humans?

Not Alaric, for sure.

If he hadn't know, the mere thought of it would have make him laugh.

In another world, in another life.

Isobel's voice came to his mind, but he couldn't get a word of what she was saying. Not that he minded. After what she had done to him, after having seen her as she was now, Ric just didn't care anymore. In fact, it was even a little odd. He didn't feel like he had ever felt anything for her.

Which he knew was not true, but again, he was drunk.

Alcohol could do wonders to the brain.

Alaric laid his eyes on the pale nape of Damon once again, thinking at how his own wife used this body to escape from him. Maybe he had to find another body, one that would hold no meaning to him, so that he could free himself from her.

A one-night stand, not Jenna, not anyone for who he could have any feeling. Doing it once, out of any fidelity, any restreint.

And then, be free, finally, of what was constantly crushing his heart.

Be a whole new Alaric Saltzman.

He just had to destroy whatever was guarding what was left of his history with Isobel. Let it sink into depravity, stain it, desecrate it.

And then start anew, with Jenna, if she wanted to. Someone else, if things went this way. Or even no one, if it was how it was supposed to be.

But, whatever the outcome, get rid of his wife, as she got rid of him.

Eyes still set on Damon, Alaric frowned.

Did this mean he had to erase each part of his wife's treason?

If so, Ric would have to kill the vampire. After all, Damon was a part of this, wasn't he?

The hunter, a very drunk hunter, but a hunter nevertheless, looked at the right sleeve of his shirt, and wondered if he should better stake the vampire right now, when his mind was so clouded by alcohol it felt as if it couldn't be clearer, or wait a little, just to be sure of his decision.

He could feel the wooden stake against his arm. Lately, he had his devices on him even at school, while he was teaching, and not only a stake gun in his locker.

Definitely growing paranoid.

Alaric let go of the stupid idea, and put his hand on Damon's shoulder, making him shudder.

"Maybe you should raise your head now. You're beginning to attract attention."

After a moment of hesitation, the very handsome vampire raised his head from the bar counter. He had a confused look on his face, as well as dark veins and red eyes, and wasn't exactly certain of what he had been thinking up to this point.

Then his eyes met Ric's, and he suddenly felt better, without even knowing why. His features went back to their normal state. Except that he had alcohol all over his face, and some dripping from his hair.

That was quite a funny sight, and the hunter chuckled.

"Time to go back home, I guess."

"Yeah, guess so too... Not that I couldn't withstand another round, but I feel kind of ashamed of myself, right now. And Damon Salvatore doesn't know shame, so I have to be out of my mind. But no worry, my awesomeness will be back after a few hours of rest."

"I would never worry about that. You're too self-important to be a mess, right?"

Damon said nothing in response, and left the bar.

Alaric did the same, but he paid before leaving, what the compulsion maniac never did.

They walked without talking for a minute, when Damon stopped, lost in his thoughts.

What had come to his mind during the last hour was very disturbing. And it involved a lot of Alaric. But not the way it was before. Before this day, when he had thought about this man, it was mostly about ways to kill him over and over again, not because he hated him or whatever, but simply because Ric had a very funny ring. Damon wouldn't have materialized those fantasies, or at least he hadn't planned to do so, but it was a hell of a way to spend time.

But without the least warning, he had begun to think about how they could just be friends.

How did the vampire hunter end up in the friendly, but also prohibited, part of his brain?

Taken out of his thoughts, Damon was really surprised as he felt a breath along his neck. He stayed still, completely dumbfounded. And, he had to admit it, it felt strangely confortable.

Alaric took a step back, then grinned and said, just before leaving:

"You smell good, right now. Like bourbon."

And while Damon was pretty sure he was the less intoxicated of the two of them, he felt like he was the only one to be completely out of it. And, what, wasn't he the one supposed to be lurking around other people's necks?


	2. ATOR, part 2: Stay here, please

_I intend to stick with Alaric/Jenna until her death, but these two will definitely get together at some point. Like, when I will have gotten past season 2. Alaric is faithful in my mind, Isobel put aside, because she's a bitch._  
 _Friendship is good too, and this one is pretty interesting eitherway, so..._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 2: Stay here, please**

Damon was busy elaborating evil schemes about who know what when he heard the door opening.

He frowned for a second, wondering who would be dumb enough to come in the Salvatore's house without being invited when Stefan was away. In fact, even people who were actually invited in the house had to be stupid or compelled to come, because, well, everybody among those who were part of the supernatural farce of Mystic Falls knew that the vampire was something of a frantic killer. It was really a wonder some people still cared about him.

It might have been the reason why there weren't many of them.

Actually, there were only Elena and Stefan.

But the two of them were at Elena's.

So, who could it be?

Damon was soooo curious about it, and yet didn't want to show that he actually had emotions.

There were days like that, he just felt playful.

Drinking bourbon all morning might have had some impact on his mood, too.

He could have blurred to the front door, but it would have made too much noise. Drunk as he was, he had every chance to bump into something, such as a wall or even the door. If the person out there knew about his kind, the surprise would be no more. So he went to the entrance of the house, making the less noise possible, and stayed still next to the door.

Funny thoughts were rampaging in his brain, and the vampire guessed he really had had too much drinks. But, eitherway, there was no reason for him not to enjoy his drunkness.

So he reached for the door handle, pushed. The door creaked open.

But the visitor didn't come in. Damon's mind was so clouded that he couldn't understand why the whole thing might feel very suspicious. The vampire frowned, trying very hard to get why no one had entered yet.

Luckily, a voice came from outside and explained it to him.

"You know that doors opening by themselves are never a good sign in an horror movie, don't you, Damon?"

Some movies came to the vampire's mind, with open doors that slammed shut as soon as the character was in the house, and then the ghost freaked the shit out of the poor guy or the psychotic killer started dismembering him or the monster began eating him. He smiled when he came up with one where it was a vampire who drank and drank and drank and the victim just died of blood loss, because, you see, the bad guy was such a glutton.

Damon wasn't sure why, but right now, it sounded hilarious.

Alaric heard a chuckle coming from nearby. He sighed and came in.

To say the truth, he was kind of surprised to find the vampire laughing silently and alone in the hallway like an idiot, so stunned he could have been drinking for the whole morning, the night before that and even the afternoon that came before. Never before he had seen Damon in such a state. The teacher had even supposed that alcohol could do no more to his more-or-less-friend than make him do inconsiderate things.

Such as, going on a killing spree.

But always with a sharp tongue, and a seemingly conscious state of mind.

Because, well, sometimes he did things he didn't have to do. And that happened a lot more when the vampire was emotionally unstable, or drunk.

Alaric arched an eyebrow. Apparently, even Damon Salvatore could get stone drunk, and at this exact moment, he was on his way to.

When the fact that Ric had come in processed to his brain successfully, Damon blinked and began staring at the man. He pursed up his lips, came closer, looked into Alaric's eyes very cautiously, and stayed still. Maybe he was trying to see in his eyes which ones of his own thoughts were accurate.

Ric stiffened. He had vervain with him, but yet, Damon's gaze was disturbing.

"What are you doing here?"

The vampire's breath was mostly made of alcohol vapor, so Alaric took a step back.

"Keeping up appearances. I'm still supposed to be your brother's teacher, and you his guardian. Which means, I have to talk with you about his school attendance."

"You're joking, right?"

"You'd prefer me to ask for an appointment?"

Bells had begun a salsa in Damon's ears, which was very strange since the music wasn't supposed to be played with bells. Each of Ric's words were swallowed in bell sounds, and for what he knew, the hunter could have been talking about flying cucurbits.

Alaric made his way to the living room.

"As far as I'm concerned, I know why he hasn't been present, but I figured out I could come in, wait for ten minutes, go out, and then pretend we talked about it."

Alaric saw the mess that seemed to prevail in the room, yet said nothing.

There were emptied blood bags all over the coffee table, and three glasses in the middle. One was full of bourbon, another one was covered in blood trails, and the third one contained what seemed to be a mix of blood and liquor. Apparently, Damon had tried the mixture, hated it, and spat on the couch. Dozens of bottles lay on the ground besides, most of these half empty.

Ric sat down in an armchair and glanced up at the vampire.

"I see you've been busy since last time we saw each other."

"Yup. I spent a lot of time doing very productive thinking about a way to get Katherine out of my head for good. And I discovered that nothing solves humans and their fellow's problems better than booze."

"That's an answer I knew for long, said the teacher while throwing away blood bags. I have spent much of my own time testing that. Now will you be kind enough to let me help you?"

Damon stayed silent, lost in a world where fairies called him granddad and where he lived in a giant mushroom that had grown in the Statue of Liberty's shadow. When one of his eight daughters gave him a hug, he snapped out of it and felt really, really stupid.

He hoped he hadn't had this kind of dream each time he had gotten drunk in his life, since he knew that once in a while he did this with vampires several times his age who could easily take a look at his dreams. Some of them did it, for sure. Olia certainly did it. Damon could picture Pete doing it too.

If those two had seen him dreaming of rainbows and elves, he was doomed.

They never said anything about it, though.

But still.

Damon enjoyed to show off, he was always eager to grin and wink and laugh at others, but he hated being the fool. He had to be the one doing the bullying.

"Damon, still with me?"

Alaric's eyes and the vampire's met. His brain cooled off.

Right, Ric was here.

Everything would be okay.

Damon flickered, so tired he could have gone to sleep on the floor. His knees buckled, he lost track of time, and, for an eternity that lasted a single second he was serene.

The teacher caught him as he fell, wondering how many drinks exactly were needed to get such a drunken Damon. Dead-weight-Damon. But, again, a vampire was technically dead, so, no news.

The guardian-to-teacher talk would have to wait. Anyway, there would have been no guardian-to-teacher talk. Some bourbon party would have been more plausible.

Alaric sighed.

Damon was a grown-up, he had been one for much longer than him, and yet the hunter had to babysit him. Actually, the vampire hunter was going to babysit a vampire. So much for irony.

Seriously, the two of them should stop drinking.

Ric took a deep breath, and went to the staircase. Putting Damon to bed was the best thing to do, but doing it was not so easy. As a plain human being, the hunter had average strength, and pulling dead-weight-Damon up the stairs turned out to be as much of a pain as what he thought it would be.

He succeeded somehow.

He put Damon to bed. The older Salvatore really didn't have silk sheets.

Alaric was about to leave when he saw the vampire's peaceful face. Sleeping. Dreaming.

Were his dreams made of bloody shades? Or were they as any man's dream? Did he dream of happy endings? Or did he only have nightmares? Was the vampire only into his own satisfaction? Or was he just unable to voice his concerns?

Ric already knew that he wasn't such a full-fledged villain. What he wasn't sure of, was whether or not his soon-to-be-friend, because he had to acknowledge it at least, he was growing fond of Damon, was capable of remorse.

Damon quivered and frowned. Something unpleasant in his dream, perhaps.

His eyelids were heavy as hell, his body cold as a corpse, which was not normal at all with all the blood he had drunk earlier, but his mind was clear again.

He found nothing sarcastic to say.

Right. Clearer than before, at least.

"Stay here."

No please, no thanks. Not an order, not a request.

Nothing more than the expression of a wish.

Alaric sat down on the bed.

Damon's muffled voice was heard once again, coming from beneath the sheets, uncertain about wanting to be heard or not. Damon's voice was not used to sound sweet from decades of ripped throats and mean comments. Damon was not used to be truthful and honest. But Alaric could hear a genuine feeling when the vampire talked again, almost to himself, but aware that the teacher could hear him.

"Katherine is everywhere. I look, I see her. I watch, I see her. I glance, I see her. Why can't she just leave me alone?"

Exhaustion.

Days of solitude, weeks of constraint, months of ersatz, years of hope, decades of forbearance.

And then nothing.

"And now I see Elena, so much better than Katherine, less dangerous, too, but so kind, so attentive, and in love with my brother. Once again."

Ric said nothing. Nothing could be said.

"I never intended to hurt him. I was simply in love. I don't want to play that game again."

"You don't have to."

The teacher almost saw a smile through the dark sheets. An old, tired smile.

"Go find someone else, with no resemblance to Katherine or Elena, and try to love them. No compulsion, no cheating, no shortcut. It won't be easy, there will be times of doubts, there will be days when you'll feel like nothing makes senses. But in the end, you'll find a perfect match. You've got time, haven't you?"

Alaric could see that Damon was a little less tense. He himself should be feeling unwell, but no, he didn't. He knew he should have felt bad for giving advice on the grounds of his own love life. But things were going well with Jenna, Isobel was out of the picture for now, and, he hoped, for ever, he had finally gotten past his wife, and Damon needed comfort with Katherine's return to Mystic Falls.

Ric felt the urge to pat Damon's head, just for the fun. The conversation was becoming way too serious and he was pretty sure the vampire was in no condition to retaliate.

A soft laugh came from under the sheets.

"You're sure you aren't a centuries old vampire? Because I could swear you are inducing sweet dreams in my mind right now, instead of the habitual hangover nightmares."

Alaric chuckled, uneasy. What could he say to that?

"I am kind of a calming presence."

Silence.

Alaric waited some more time, no more words.

The teacher slowly rose, prepared to leave.

A voice prevented him from doing so. A sweet, weak, shy voice.

"Stay here, please."

A request.

Ric stayed some more time, silent, sitting on the bed, next to the form of Damon under the sheets.


	3. ATOR, part 3: Nothing more, nothing less

S _et in 2x03, obviously_

* * *

 _I'm in an awfully good mood, just finished a 393 pages story that took me 3 years to write, so I came up with... this._  
 _This... thing._  
 _It looks like a chapter of some story._  
 _I believe we can sum it up as a hint of how fucked up my head is._  
 _That's not exactly violence, I guess, but well. Yuck. And yet hurray._  
 _Understand me if you can. And if you can, you're warned. I'm strange, I know it. Do you know if you are?_  
 _So now, I will shut up._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 3: Nothing more, nothing less**

Alaric took a look at Isobel's stuff in her office / room-filled-with-every-supernatural-bullshit-the-world-could-imagine / whatever while waiting for the young woman, Vanessa Monroe she said she was called, to come back.

Now that he knew that vampires and witches and doppelgangers and who-know-what-else were real, he couldn't help but wonder how many of the tales that were told to children had a kernel of truth in them.

Ric glanced at Damon and Elena. At this exact moment, he was with two living evidences of a supernatural reality. In fact, he might have been one of those, too. Couldn't forget he died once, could he? If he could still do the math right, there were one living evidence of double occurrences, even if the show would have been better if he could have gotten Katherine on stage too, and two not-so-dead evidences of supernatural occurences, one as a guy who should be dead and wasn't thanks to a magic ring, and one as another guy who was actually dead yet had a beating heart, could move, speak, think, although in strange ways sometimes, and casually drank blood for breakfast, lunch and dinner, in the room.

Hurray for realism.

Then he realized he was in his bitch-of-an-undead-wife's office and he couldn't care less in the world. He had made progress, as he thought. Great.

Right when he had this positive thought, and that was some achievement to have a positive thought about Isobel, Miss Monroe came back with a crossbow and shot at Elena.

What? How? Why?

No time for answers, but clearly, something was odd there.

Thankfully, Damon took the crossbow bolt instead, blocking the way for another shot.

Not that he was happy that Damon was physically hurt. Well, maybe a little, to be honest. But it was way better than taking back to his girlfriend a dead daughter-in-law who happened to be the niece of the said girlfriend. Alaric loved his life. Really. Yet, sometimes, he had to remind himself how farcical this life was. Trying not to get too used to it, or one day, he might not be able to dicern what was really wrong from what was kind of strange.

So, no time to think, right? Ric was just beginning to befriend with his wife's kind-of-murderer-but-not-exactly, and well, he cared about Elena and about humans in general, so maybe he should do something before the woman could get a better shot and ended up killing someone.

So he pinned her against the wall, took the weapon away.

Damon snorted. For now, the pain was distracting him from his next objective, which was clearly beheading Miss Monroe as a compensation, but he was seriously considering the idea.

A glare from Ric wiped the idea out of his mind. Killing the girl apparently meant being staked in the guts, if the hunter didn't go for the heart. Which was not sure at all. And Alaric was way more efficient than a tiny bookworm who got herself a crossbow.

That would have been a pity. Just when their friendship started to make some sense.

Elena took the bolt out of Damon's back with little efficiency, but it was better than nothing. The vampire felt the wood break into pieces, leaving splinters here and there in his internal organs, and winced thinking of how he would need to have his own hand wandering off in his stomach to get them out. Trully wonderful. Dream of his live.

After some nice explanations, with a lot of "it's not possible" and other variations of incredulity, everyone was mostly calmed down. So they did exactly what they were supposed to do: Alaric was being serious, Elena was being upset at Damon, Damon was being a jackass, and Vanessa Monroe was being very enthousiastic about all this.

On top of being themselves, the four of them managed to get some data about werewolves and doppelgangers, so everything was great and all, but before going back, Damon really needed to get those splinters out of his body.

The vampire discreetly left while Elena was still talking with Miss Monroe.

Looking for the bathrooms, he flinched when a hand came down on his shoulder. Had his senses become dull or what? It was just Alaric, and yet he hadn't noticed him until the last moment.

Ric frowned at the reaction, but said nothing.

"I'll help you with that."

"With what?"

"You think I didn't see how Elena pulled the bolt out of you? There's no way you haven't some more wood left in here."

Damon made a face, which one Ric could not tell exactly, because the vampire's facial expressions chart was so wide. What the hunter could say, was that there was some suprise in it.

"You get that it's a bit narrow in this?"

Ric gave the toilet booth a knowing look, and the hell if Damon had any idea of what it meant, but the hunter was definitely judging the booth with the eye of an expert, and grinning.

"No worries, it'll be big enough."

The vampire frowned. He went in nonetheless, curious of what would happen after that, and very eager to get rid of the splinters that were tickling his internal organs.

The space in the booth was narrow, he had that right. But Alaric hadn't been wrong either: both of them had enough space to turn around.

Damon sighed, took off his shirt and leaned over the toilet bowl. No need to paint the room scarlet.

"Maybe you should take yours off too."

The vampire couldn't not see the abs when Ric got rid of his jacket and shirt. Not so long ago, he was still kind of flabby. Not so much, but still. When the hell did he have time to train, with every supernatural shit that happened lately?

If Damon wasn't already inchangingly perfect, he would have been jealous.

Well, perfection was relative. As for him, the outside was perfect, no question, but the inside was a mess, both physically and psychologically. He was working very hard on the last part, though.

Nothing could be seen of the pain he was enduring at the moment, but he knew pretty well facade and reality were not always the same thing. For now, the only thing he could feel was that his viscera were tearing apart and healing at the same time. Maybe that was the reason why he hadn't heard the hunter coming: too preoccupied by his guts aching like hell to notice his friend's arrival.

"And what do you think you could do for me?"

The vampire was a little skeptical.

It wouldn't be a problem. It was normal to be skeptical. Ric just had to do so that the vampire wouldn't have any time to react. So he took a blade he kept in his left pant leg and stabbed Damon.

The vampire reacted a little late, and not well. Instinct took over, from what the hunter could see, and Damon went all vampire-mode. But he restrained himself, whatever the reason was, and kept his struggle to a minimum.

"Help, remember? And it's not like you'll die because of such a wound. So keep your fangs out of my sight."

Damon was bewildered. First of all, he didn't understand how bleeding out would help him to remove splinters. Moreover, Ric was way too calm about this, as if stabbing people was a hobby he used to practice twice a week. And, ultimately, the hunter was freaking awesome while doing it.

Maybe natural born torturers were real.

But no, that wasn't Alaric's case.

The vampire could see it in his eyes. The teacher was nothing like a psychopath, it was simply that he didn't fear blood. Ric was doing what had to be done, and felt okay about it. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't seem to enjoy inflicting pain or death, but didn't hate it either.

"So? What comes next?"

"I suppose you know exactly where the splinters are?"

"I could give you a GPS location if I needed to."

"You will."

Damon looked at him, incredulous. What exactly was Ric planning to do with his body?

The teacher's right hand went to the wound.

Alaric gave one last glance to Damon, making sure he wouldn't back off suddenly. Given the little space, they would most likely fall upon each other and redecorate the whole booth with bloody prints. It being a public space, it would be a hell to explain if anybody came and saw them cleaning.

The vampire felt Ric's fingers separate the wound's edges, crawl inside his flesh and touch solfty his internal organ.

That was gross. Freaking gross. Freaking awesomely gross.

"I... think I get what you're trying to do. Left, near the stomach."

It was definitely one of the crudest thing he did in his whole life. It also hurt like hell. But the hunter's touch was gentle, even though he favored efficiency over comfort. And when Damon looked into those eyes, he could only trust him.

Damon chuckled despite the situation. The man he trusted the most in the world at that precise moment was the one who tried to kill him not so long ago. One of the those who tried to kill him not so long ago would have been more accurate. Lots of people had tried to kill him during the last months.

Ric looked up, a bit baffled.

"May I know what's making you laugh?"

"Nothing."

A sharp pain startled the vampire.

"You got one."

Slowly, Alaric pulled the splinter out of the wound, left open thanks to the knife.

A tiny, riduculous wood splinter that had almost made Damon cry. Really.

"How many left?"

"Three, I think. Not sure, though. The pain is terrible, you know."

"Well then, better go back to work."

It took some time, and Damon found himself thinking that Elena might worry about them not coming back, but it had to be done. When Ric got the last splinter, just before he took it out of the vampire's body, Damon pointed out that they hadn't talked since some time already.

"With none of us wasted, I mean."

"Is that my fault if you're never serious, unless you had half a bottle of bourbon messing with your head?"

"No, but you're one to talk."

Alaric ripped the splinter out.

Damon growled. That was unnecessary.

The hunter ignored him and took back the blade that he more or less washed in the toilet bowl. Blood had been spilled all over the seat, and Damon looked paler than ever. But he felt better.

The vampire watched Ric as the man looked at his bloody hand with annoyance.

The silence was unbearable.

"You know, I'm trying very hard."

Ric raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop to contemplate the length of his arm that was soaked in blood. There was a sink outside of the toilet booth, but he feared to go out in such a state. He couldn't even put his shirt on without getting blood all over it. Neither could Damon, to say the truth.

"I mean, all those things you said about forgetting Elena and Katherine and finding someone completely different. But it's not so simple, and I don't want her to hate me so I try to be funny even though I'm a jerk and I just find everyone else boring or already taken and..."

Alaric got him to shut up by covering the vampire's mouth with his own hand. Damon was going to complain with an explicit groan when he heard it too. There was someone in the room. Which was to be expected, since they were in a public toilet booth. So he shut up.

If anybody saw them, blood all over the teacher's hand and red water in the toilet bowl, shirtless in the same booth, silent, there would have been some misunderstanding, for sure. What kind of misunderstanding, Damon wasn't certain. But misunderstanding, anyway. No danger. Why would anyone come in?

And while these thoughts were making their way to his brain with no particular reason, Damon stiffened. With all the blood loss, he was craving for blood. Shit.


	4. ATOR, part 4: Deep beneath the surface

_Finally getting somewhere... because yes, I intend to write a story with plot, or more likely plots, and as everything is always about Elena in the show, here it'll be all about Alaric or Damon, even though I might use the actual story here and there. Just, not the parts that I don't like..._  
 _And I'm so sorry, but I can't help misreading what I wrote, which is pretty abnormal, and I keep seeing wordswith double meanings, and it kind of leaked in the chapter._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 4: Deep beneath the surface**

Alaric's hand went up to his own lips, and the hunter made the sign to stay quiet some more time while letting go of Damon's mouth.

The vampire had bloody handprints all over his face, and for once, he was not the one responsible for that. Ric actually saw him change, but still said nothing. Red eyes and dark capillaries were all the more reason not to attract attention. Because, well, there were already four shoes that could be seen from outside the booth, and that was odd enough. If anyone saw them, things could go somewhat astray. Because it definitely looked like they were making out. Using red paint. Very fluid red paint.

Hell, he could think it, if he couldn't get himself to say it, for various reasons.

Blood.

And all that while trying to remain silent.

So, no matter what conclusion would be reached, they were being pretty suspicious.

A_ They would be categorized as a gay couple. Could be way worse than that.

B_ One of them would be accused of assaulting the other one. It began to feel uncomfortable.

C_ Alaric would be arrested for attempted murder. And with no wound to prove anything...

D_ Maybe they would be considered a couple of gay serial killers?

E_ Let's stop the stupid listing right away before it gets even more messy and problematic. Besides, Damon the compulsion maniac could still do compulsion maniacs' stuff.

The thing was, Damon was really thirsty, it could be seen at the way he frequently stopped himself from simply attacking his friend.

Who said vampirism was the same as a drinking problem? You don't die from lack of alcohol, or at least you shouldn't. A normal, sober human being could just look away from alcohol, but he couldn't stop drinking water or eating food just because he wanted to. Here it is. Blood was vital for a vampire. Or else he would desiccate. And as forcing yourself on a hunger-strike was against survival instincts, any vampire would just go on a rampage if he lacked blood.

Damon wasn't there yet, hopefully, but damn, he could feel it coming.

And Ric was here, within a meter, blood pumping from his heart, healthy human, liver apart, but well, didn't matter with bloodsucking, so everything was good, living blood bag, warm, appealing blood running through his veins and arteries, the never ending rhythm of warm blood invading every capillaries and then going back to the heart, red and oxygenated blood, the delicious scent of warm blood, the music of blood flow alluring the vampire, the strong, fierce fragrance of the much desired blood, mesmeric warm blood asking to be drunk...

But no.

That was just him craving for blood, nothing else. Damon could handle craving. Most of the time he didn't, in any other circumstances he'd just find an unknow woman to drink from. But he could handle it.

And if Alaric had a knife in his pant leg, who knew what else he had with him? Surely one or two portative stakes, hidden in his jacket, which was within easy reach.

And also, there was that: Damon wouldn't have bet that the man, if he didn't kill him on the spur of the moment, would ever forgive him for drinking from him.

Damon would never admit it, but he needed a friend.

He wasn't asking for much.

The vampire only wanted one friend. Not two, five, eight or twenty-three. Just one.

He had had friends back in the day. Not so many, for a hundred and seventy years old. But he had known people he cared about, besides his brother and Katherine, over the years. All of them died at some point. Killed.

Sunlight. Stupid accident.

Stake. Stupid hunter.

Fire. Stupid scientists.

From time to time he had also noticed that he cared for some human, out of the blue. Usually, when that happened, he'd run away in a blur and never come back. Humans were weak, humans were delicate. Humans would die at some point, either killed or because of a disease or from great age. Humans wouldn't always accept him for what he was if they weren't compelled. Some tried to kill him, even though they were supposed to be friends. Some outed him, which was worst most of the time. Either for him, almost staked or burnt or whatever, or for them, put in an asylum right away.

Alaric tried to kill him too, but that was before they became friends.

With Ric, everything seemed to go backwards.

Relationships.

Time.

Even Damon.

Because Damon could feel it. He was becoming a better man. Or vampire, for what it mattered. As he had been once.

It was certainly not Stefan's influence, since his brother didn't manage to get him out of his hatred for more than a century. It might have been Elena's, like, Elena surely had something to do with this, but she wasn't the only one to influence him.

Alaric had his say in the matter.

Maybe the hunter wasn't even aware of it.

Damon gulped. At some point, the teacher would go grey, then white, then dead. They always did this, those filthy humans. Just when you began to care about them, they died.

But at least, he was protected by the ring. He wouldn't die because Damon had pissed off the wrong vampire or werewolf or witch. Not permanently, anyway.

It was something.

What would come out of this friendship, he didn't know.

What would happen as time would go on, he didn't want to think about it.

What would he do once Alaric would be no longer, he didn't even consider it.

He needed a friend. One such as the hunter, as hilarious as it could be.

The teacher looked at him in the eyes.

Damon shuddered.

There was something with those eyes of his...

The vampire couldn't tell what. But there was something off with them. How could they be so calm, and yet so determined? So intidimidating, yet so laughing? So caring, yet so terrifying? Maybe Damon was just being delusional. Because sometimes he felt as if there was nothing in those eyes.

Emptiness, deep beneath the surface. A lot of things here and there, on the first, the second, the third layer. Nothing beyond.

The blue-yet-not-quite eyes of the teacher were definitely trying to say something to him.

Damon made his "what?" face.

Alaric cocked his head, eyes wide open, but the vampire still had no idea of what he meant.

Still silent because, hell, the guy that had come in sure took his time washing his hands, the hunter pointed at his own neck. This time it's was Damon's turn to make eyes as big as saucers.

Ric couldn't really mean it.

But blood had rained down from his wound as long as the hunter had kept it open, and the vampire was really diminished. Habitually, he just took out whatever had been pushed into his flesh and then he healed. Habitually, he didn't have to deal with such massive blood loss.

Alaric could see that his friend was hesitating. In other circumstances, he would have been quite pleased with this. But right now was not the time, and he'd rather be a blood donor than letting Damon free on a university site when he was running out of blood.

He also trusted the vampire not to drain him, and if he did, he still had the ring. He wouldn't dare to say the same if the victim was a ramdom student with no ties to his friend.

So be it, he would be the martyr of the day.

Ric knew exactly when Damon made his mind, and stiffened a little. He might be a volunteer, he didn't feel confortable with the act nonetheless.

The vampire leaned closer to him, stopped a moment, took a deep breath, certainly restraining himself from simply biting down and tearing half of his best friend's neck at the same time.

Then Alaric felt two sharp fangs break through the skin of his neck.

It was a bit painful, but not as much as he thought it would be, when investigating his wife's notes and belongings. As a vampire hunter, the questioning was legitimate. It was a highly risky line of work, and the odds of being bitten by a vampire were much higher than average.

Then again, if this had happened the first time the hunter went after the vampire, Damon would certainly have been rougher on him than he was at the moment.

The weird part of the act was certainly the fact that a vampire was actually sucking up his blood. The whole aspiration thing was strange, and he began to feel dizzy.

Damon felt better.

Ric's blood was highly nutritive, and he could almost sense an aftertaste of bourbon, which wasn't exactly a surprise. Obviously, competiting with vampires on a daily basis could only be done by having balanced meals. And obviously, living the hellish life of Alaric Saltzman on a daily basis required a lot of alcohol, in order to leave the day's shit behind when he went to bed.

The vampire eventually noticed Alaric was losing vigor and stopped drinking.

But he didn't move away. The least he could do was to keep him from falling on the floor.

"You're okay?" he asked, speaking very low, in case the bloody nuisance would still be there, just outside of the booth.

"I'll survive."

The teacher's voice was pretty low too, but Damon suspected he couldn't have talked any louder if he wished to.

Alaric took a deep breath, rolled his eyes as the world went back to spinning, and managed to get on his feet without his friend's help.

When they got out of the booth, someone was there, staring at them, but it was only Elena. How she figured out they would be there, Damon and Ric had no idea, but well, what's done is done.

Elena frowned. She clearly didn't expect to see what she was seeing.

"Which one of you killed the other one this time?"

"None of us. I was just giving my jacket to Damon. He can't run around with a bloody T-shirt, can he? So now, if you'll excuse us..."

And Alaric pushed Elena out of the public toilet, gently but firmly.

What he told her wasn't exactly false.

"Put this on, and close it, please. I don't want to see campus girls fainting as we go back to the car"

Alaric washed his arm cautiously, put his shirt on, and stayed behind to thank Vanessa Monroe and give her some advices about her non-involvement into the supernatural side of the world. Better safe than sorry.

They had barely left the university that Miss Monroe went back in, wondering how all this could be real and why no one had told her anything about it sooner. Sitting down at the desk of Isobel's office, the young women took some time to think, then looked around some more.

She had exactly seven books underneath her arm when she finally thought about leaving for the day. Closing the door while holding onto the books revealed itself to be a challenge that she didn't exactly fulfill, but as she leaned over to retrieve a very old book about witches, she saw it.

There was a piece of paper sticking out of the desk drawer. A white, tiny piece of paper.

Miss Monroe drew the door once again, put down the books, and tried to open the drawer. Getting no result, she decided that it was pretty suspicious and she would pick the lock if she had to. Shaking the drawer until it came loose revealed itself to be enough, and Miss Monroe searched vigorously the inside, until she finaly found an old photo stuck between two piece of wood.

She immediately recognised the man as Isobel's husband, Alaric Saltzman. He seemed to be so much younger, a bright smile on his lips, yet the photo was nothing more than four years old. The man must really have had it rough after his wife's presupposed death...

She was going to close the drawer and leave, feeling a bit guilty to have snuck into their privacy, when her eyes fell upon a book called Family Curses and Cursed Families. Wondering why it wasn't on the shelves, but hidden in a drawer, she flipped through it.

Or at least attempted to.

Right in the middle, there was a bunch of missing pages, probably hand-pulled.


	5. ATOR, part 5: A reminder of the accident

_I miss Dalaric bromance so much..._

 _I'll write my own if I have to. Oh, wait, I already did._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 5: A reminder of the accident**

Alaric got out of the car once Damon and Elena had been sucessfully delivered to their families.

The ride had been shorter than he expected it to be, but it didn't prevent him from getting back pain.

Oddly enough, going back home always felt shorter than getting away from home. Maybe that came from the fact that you know exactly where you're going when you return. Or maybe not. Eitherway, it was just like that.

The teacher had a little smile. He really began to consider Mystic Falls home.

He surely didn't expect to when he came in town, half a year ago. After all, what he wanted back then was simply to stake some vampires, teach classes, and stake some other vampires.

It had been quite a shock to recognise Damon Salvatore as the bastard who'd killed his wife and probably thrown her body in some dumpster.

The worst he had to deal with, the night it had happened, was that Isobel and Damon were having sex when he came home. In their bedroom. As if it was okay.

Ric knew it was strange to be more angry about this than about the fact that his wife was most likely dead, killed by a shitty vampire. But he also knew that he didn't deal with death the way most people did. He wasn't really happy to know that, but what could he do about it? He had always been that way, and was likely to remain so until his death.

He had been sad. He had mourned.

But rage was what got him out of bed for months after the event.

Rage and Saltzman were never a great combo.

Rage and Saltzman combined were the best way to get someone killed. The question being, who? Him? Some guy that would have pissed him off at the wrong time?

As a teenager, Alaric did sports. A lot of sports. Fighting sports. Team sports. Individual sports. He was good at it. Learned fast. Faster than anyone else. As if he had some kind of instinct for using his body the right way, without hurting himself. He had become strong. And there had been some incidents. Nothing serious.

And then there had been the accident.

Alaric had never gone back to sports. He had devoted himself to his studies. Reduced his passions to History, enjoyed the other subjects as much as he could. Spend hours and hours at the library.

He had lost all of his former friends. Made some new ones. Not so many, but that was better than nothing. After what had happened, he had been lucky some people would still talk to him.

Then he had gone to college. Duke University. He had run away from his family, in a way. His mother was great, his father too. His father's family, on the other side, was a reminder of everything he hated about himself. A reminder of the accident.

At Duke, he had added Isobel to his passions.

And now, he was back to sports. Only, he used it to be able to kill vampires. Not exactly people, but yet. All this because of Isobel.

He had sworn he would never train again. Sworn he would keep his body in the most banal condition possible. And yet there he was, training.

Alaric hadn't trained for almost twenty years.

When Isobel went missing, he researched vampires for months. When he first found out about Mystic Falls, he went back to sports. Three mere months after that, there was a vacancy for the history teacher's spot. Just his luck.

So what? How many months had it been? Eight? Nine? Whatever the number, it wasn't even a year. Yet he was almost back to how he used to be, before the accident.

He had no regrets. He had no remorse. What happened did happen. He had to do it, or else someone innocent would have died. He did what needed to be done.

He had no problem with this. And that was exactly what he had a problem with: not having a problem with something so blatantly wrong was the problem.

He would never forgive himself if it happened again.

Ric tried not to think about the assignement Damon had just given him. A barbecue with his girlfriend, a vampire and a very-likely-to-be-werewolf wasn't exactly what he needed to get his worries out of his head. No, what he needed, right now, was a bath, and a good book about the Watergate that he had started reading after his last kill.

Alcohol helped him to forget that he had a hellish life, and books helped him to un-notice that he didn't give a damn about murdering, even if the victim was a not-exactly-human-creature who had certainely killed humans. So three weeks ago, the teacher had bought a whole bunch of history books about just anything, from ancient Egypt to modern Australia.

There were only two books left.

So Ric ran a bath, and immersed himself in hot water.

Hot water was all he needed. Hot water, and a book.

Reading while bathing wasn't exactly his thing, but well. Reading freed his mind, bathing freed his body. He couldn't choose between either option.

There were so many things that needed to be freed in his whole existence, from the day it had been decided that he would live to this present day of sorrow.

 _Impeachment_. The water was so hot, it was almost unbearable. _Nixon_. Cooling down, much better. _Deep Throat_. Lukewarm, still had time. _1972_. Somewhat chilly, now. _John Sirica_. He should really get out before he catches a cold.

Alaric reached out for a towel.

Everything was okay. He had no need to worry. Some bourbon, and everything would be fine. Alcohol would make the world a better place for a few hours. A friend, and everything would be great. If only his life could be so normal.

He'd stay home this night.

He heard his cellphone ringing.

The teacher wrapped up the towel around his hips, checked he wasn't soaking the floor with foamy water, because yes, shame on him, Alaric liked bubble baths, so what? and went to answer the phone that he had left in his jacket pocket.

Alaric frowned. He didn't recognize the phone number.

He picked up the phone.

"Hello."

 _"Vanessa Monroe speaking, I snatched your phone earlier and memorized your number."_

Because that was a normal behavior, right?

"And what may I help you with?"

 _"You can't. But I found a hidden book in Isobel's office, about curses. There's a chapter about werewolves, but nothing really new... wait, there is this plant, wolfsbane... seems to be kind of the same for werewolves as vervain is for vampires."_

"Thanks. Anything else?"

Ric heard her stay silent for a moment, as if she was reflecting whether or not it was of importance.

"Spill it, we'll see then if it's useful."

The student cleared her throat.

 _"Pages were ripped out. Two chapters, from what I can see in the table of contents. One is about the Petrova family, doppelgangers referred. The other one is about some Falkenbach family, also called..."_

"...Great Assassins. I see. Well, then, I shall hung up, Miss Monroe. Once again, don't get yourself in this mess if you have a choice. Knowing about vampires considerably shortens your life span."

Isobel knew about the Falkenbachs. The teacher's life really sucked.

Knocks on the door.

Jenna had never come to his apartment, which was somewhat strange, but since he kept crossbows, stake guns and vervain grenades in false bottoms all around the loft, he would not complain about it. Their relationship was already unclear enough without taking the vampire hunter part into account.

So it was most likely not Jenna.

But Ric couldn't think of anyone else who knew were he lived.

Well, that was depressing.

So unless someone from school had something to tell him, and there was no way someone would come all the way when they could wait for the next day, at school, the person waiting for him to open the door was mistaking.

He slightly opened the door.

"The hell you're doing naked?"

Right. Damon goddamn Salvatore. Damon knew where he lived. Alaric wasn't sure how he had figured it out, but once in a while, the vampire would come and take him for a drink. No pun intended. The fact that the hunter had offered his blood to his friend was because it had been an emergency. He wasn't planning to do it ever again. Why would he, anyway?

Maybe Damon had followed him going back home one day, wondering if he should better kill him right now or let him live for another day. Because yes, his brain seemed to have forgotten, but there was a time when they were at each other's throat.

...And he did it again. Vampire's humor was rubbing off on him.

Alaric put his serious-and-a-bit-annoyed face on and opened the door a bit more.

Damon looked at him from head to toe.

"I'll correct myself gracefully: the hell you're doing almost naked on your doorstep, Ric?"

"I just got out of bath. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Don't be a dick, Ric. Oh, wait, it rhymes. Bad omen for you, man."

"You're the dick."

"Hell right I am. May I?"

Alaric looked silently at the vampire.

"Come on, I don't want to kill you anymore, you don't want to kill me anymore, what prevents you from letting me in now?"

"The fact that you tend to snap people's neck on a whim?"

"I don't!"

The hunter gave him a look of disbelief.

Damon averted his eyes from him, then talked, almost ashamed. The important word was almost.

"Maybe I do, but I'm worried about you. You're sure you do not want magical blood medicine?"

The vampire was really glancing at his own teeth marks on Ric's neck. And not like he wanted another taste. Simply as if he was actually worried.

"I mean, you managed to hide it from Elena with your shirt, but if anyone... And it's not like you can wear a scarf to hide it. I don't want the sheriff to think the history teacher was used as a blood bag and start to have some of her men following you around, searching for the big bad vampire."

Alaric smirked. Sure, Damon was not worried at all. He had just been thinking about Mystic Falls supernatural community's safety. The hunter could so not hear concern in his voice.

"Thanks man but no thanks. Though I appreciate the gesture."

Alaric widely opened the door, and took a step forward, so that he would be just on the border of the ownership barrier.

Damon saw right through his game. Came closer, until he bumped into the barrier.

That was awkward.

"I can stay here all night if I need to. Or you could let me in."

Ric could feel the vampire's soft breathing. Damon didn't exactly need to breath, but did it out of habit. That is, he could chose not to, but did it naturally, unless he prevented it.

They were so close that eye contact was nearly not figuratively speaking.

Damon could hear his friend's pulse. Calm. And he smelled of soap. Maybe he should take a step back. He wouldn't.

"You were on the phone a minute ago. Who was that?"

The hunter raised an eyebrow, not sure about how Damon came to this question.

"I'll cover your ears with glue one of these days. It was Vanessa Monroe, she told me she found a book about curses with missing pages. The Petrova chapter, as a matter of fact."

"You gave her your phone number?"

"She gave it to herself all on her own. Don't ask. A drink?"

Damon nodded. He seemed bothered, but said nothing. Ric put some clothes on, with a high collar jacket, and they were on their way to the Grill.


	6. ATOR, part 6 : if he wanted to

_Moved on to 2x04_

* * *

 _I've got a shitty day. So there is some shitty chapter._  
 _Mason pisses me off._  
 _My right eye encountered a door handle something like a week ago. I might get a scar and I'm awfully happy about it. I must be nuts._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 6: If he wanted to**

Damon was messing around with Mason Lockwood more than he should have. Dog and wolf jokes, really, who was he kidding? Even Jenna was aware that something was going on, Ric could see it in her eyes.

He didn't like to hide stuff from her, but his last love-interest, whom he had married, for God's sake, had left him because of some supernatural bullshit. He wasn't willing to give it a try once again.

Not that he feared Jenna would leave him to become a vampire, he'd have to be completely insane to believe such a thing, because this turn of events would be so out of character it didn't even fit in a fantasy. But as he said Vanessa Monroe, knowing of the supernatural was kind of dangerous. He definitely didn't want Jenna to die.

...And he didn't want her to think he was a completely delusional vampire nerd who used to go around staking people while being persuaded they were centuries old monsters.

Alaric may have some mental issues, but he wasn't mad.

The teacher almost burst into laughter in the middle of a game. Jenna seemed to be really into it, Damon used it to tease Mason, and Mason did his best not to show he was kind of annoyed. And here he was, Alaric Saltzman, vampire hunter, high school history teacher during his spare time, thinking about the negligible fact that he almost lived up to the standards of psychopathy.

He glanced at the white board where Damon had drawn an almost wolf-like creature dancing in a tutu. Subtlety wasn't exactly what he excelled at for the time being.

Damon though he was doing his part just great, but, werewolf sitting on the couch put aside, there was something that bothered him about Ric. He was kind of pretty certain his friend was withholding information from him.

What exactly, he had no idea.

He had tried everything. Heart rate was steady. Eyes never looked away. Answers to his questions were always given in due time.

It was like such a thing as a hesitation had completely disappeared from the hunter's body language.

And that was exactly what gave Ric away.

Who could be so perfectly and genuinely attentive that they were never ever caught off guard? No one. No vampire, no werewolf, let alone a human. There definitely was something Alaric was being cautious about, but the hell if he knew what exactly.

Being so unfazed should be forbidden. Damon hadn't found out anything, not even a hint. Seriously. There were no topic of conversation, no situation, no word that triggered the slightest reaction.

The hunter had been very inconspicuous when he had began to plot his revenge on the vampire, but that, that was the real deal. His prudent approach from back then was a piece of cake compared to now. And back then, it had been about his wife's murder. Not just any shit. What could possibly make Ric so wary of himself, Damon had no idea.

The probability for the teacher to have a dirty little secret just soared in the polls.

Damon was so curious, and damn, how did Alaric manage to get him so curious about so many things? that he almost forgot to piss off Mason Lockwood for a whole minute.

He had to catch up, seriously.

The dinner went smoothly. Elena and Caroline, who had joined them, were smiling almost honestly. Alaric, Jenna and Mason were exchanging high school and college stories. Damon was listening. He laughed a lot at the teacher who had spent most of his time locked in his room or at the library and didn't dare to bring his acne outside of a dark room. Some dog jokes were exchanged, but Alaric gave him a dark glare and he stopped.

Later he and Mason were alone.

The man just blurted it all out, and the vampire was pretty surprised to know that werewolves could more or less recognize vampires, whereas vampires couldn't even tell their own kind. He should definitely try to know more about that when he has time.

Right now, he was busy with the do-I-or-don't-I-kill-the-wolf game?

It was a very simple game. You just had to close your eyes and pick something among the cutlery.

A spoon, life.

A fork, try again.

A knife, death.

Fork. He'll try again later.

Ric entered the room, slightly concerned. If his friend was going to murder someone this night, the hunter would have appreciated if he did not do it in his girlfriend's house. Or in his students' house. Or in his daughter-in-law's house. In other words, in the house they all were in right now.

The first thing he saw was Damon giving Mason Lockwood first and then him a crooked look while holding two silver knives.

"Ric! Grab these!"

It took him half a second to get what the vampire was doing.

Swearing in a low voice, Alaric raised his arm to catch the knive that was dangerously on its way to his left shoulder. He knew he should have ducked. But no. Instinct.

He stayed still for some time, taking a deep breath. He would not give in to anger.

The knife was stuck between his index and middle-finger. No cuts.

Right. This time, he could say he was definitely back to how he was before the accident.

"Damon, have you perhaps gone mental? Don't ever do that again."

The vampire could see the void in the hunter's eyes. Those were no good news. Maybe he'd better behave. Alaric was right. It was dangerous. He wasn't even sure why he did it in the first place.

Then it was time for Damon to say goodbye and leave, right behind Mason. A silver knife in his hand, he waited a minute, then stabbed the werewolf in the chest. Burrying a blade in the heart of someone was something he didn't do often enough. That was pretty enjoyable. Metal against flesh. Flesh pierced with metal. Sharp, cutting knife pressed into a bloody wound.

He was barely readying himself to go back to the boarding house, whistling, when he saw the werewolf remove the blade from his torso and throw it away. There was blood on the knife, just as it should be, but the wound was disappearing.

Shit. No silver allergy, then.

And even better, a threat. Made an enemy tonight, blah blah blah. The vampire could already hear Stefan's sermon. Diplomacy. Agreement. Cease fire. Not interested, thanks.

Damon did this thing with his eyes, as they said, and wondered if killing Mason Lockwood anyway, snap his neck, for example, was such a bad idea. But Saint Stefan would be a pain in the ass some additional hours if he did. So he didn't.

He was being a good, obedient, vampire brother. Maybe he could have a susucre as a reward.

Mason smirked. He had been right about the vampire. He was an arrogant douche.

"You really don't have to be a monster to be inhumane. You and that Saltzman guy found each other just perfectly."

Damon frowned. Why was Alaric dragged into this, exactly?

Mason sneered, very pleased with himself.

"Don't tell me you never saw his eyes?"

"What about Ric's eyes?"

Damon was so not in the mood to play the stupid game. Since the wolf had decided to be an asshole, and no, Damon wouldn't acknowledge any responsibility in this decision, either he would spill it, either Damon would make him spill it.

"Come on, unless you're blind or madly in love with him, you surely noticed the way he's completely unreadable if he doesn't want you to know what he thinks."

"That doesn't make him inhumane, just surprinsingly good at lying."

"And there's also the fact that he has this emptiness in the depths of his eyes."

Damon restrained himself from reacting. He wasn't the only one who had seen it, then...

"You vampires use compulsion, but he has authority. Natural, overwhelming authority. Earlier, he told you to stop, and you obeyed. You weren't forced to, but you did."

"I did it because I didn't see any valid reason not to do it."

Damon snorted. He wasn't a slave, he was a goddamn vampire. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and no one would ever dictate his behavior. If he did what Ric had told him, it was only because he agreed with him. He had gone to far.

Mason Lockwood was only bullshitting him.

But was he?

The wolf squinted, amused as he could sense how much Damon was feeling uncomfortable.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"You're only talking shit, so no, I don't get it. At all."

"Let me explain. Humans usually don't get it, when they're with people such as your pal, because their instinct has gone extinct for too many years. Even vampires don't usually get it, they are so full of themselves and rely too much on compulsion. But werewoves are instinctive creatures, we work with our guts, and as I can smell Death oozing out of you, I can tell you that this man would be a shark if only he wanted to."

The vampire ignored the bait. He had had his share of dumb moves for the night.

Yeah, Damon was dead, so it was pretty normal for him to ooze Death. Thank goodness he didn't stink of decomposing corpse. Anyone who had a problem with this could say it to his face, or just shut it. And franckly, the werewolf was a shitty werewolf, so he hadn't a say in the matter.

And where the hell did Mason think he was leading this conversation?

"If he wanted to, you said so yourself. Doesn't mean he is."

"He's oozing Death too, you know. Not the same way you do, but he does."

"Might be because I killed him once."

The vampire really tried to sound convincingly trivial, but he himself wasn't convinced. He kind of had remorse about this kill, now that he knew Alaric so well. Maybe his best friend ever.

Which reminded him...

"I still can't believe George was the same as you are... maybe he triggered his curse too, for what I know. Best friend my ass."

"So you're from the mid-eighteenth century. Good to know. And for your information, he did. Now, let's go back to our discussion, shall we?"

Mason was really getting cocky, and Damon thought he could still kill him right now. After all, on a regular night such as this one, he was just a supernaturaly strong and fast man with healing capacities. Capacities that were nothing near as great as a vampire's. Blow off his head, and he would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Damon wondered what werewolf's blood would taste like. Certainly horrible, with an aftertaste of fur. The vampire might has well try to get a drink with Ric for what it was worth.

He rejected the idea of taking a sip on the hunter, who was most likely to stake him in the guts if he only dared to try. But hell, he couldn't forget Ric's taste.

...And that was definitely not the time to think about it.

"We were having no conversation. You were simply trying to bullshit me about Alaric, even if I still don't get why. Now I'll be going. I don't want to hear you babbling nonsense anymore."

Damon turned away. This talk had been useless, and now he was in a bad mood.

He didn't halt when he heard the werewolf's voice one last time.

"When I said he smelled of Death, I mean that he has already killed people."

The answer to this one was easy.

"Of course. He's a vampire hunter, after all."

Mason stayed silent.

Damon would have loved to see the surprise on his face, but he didn't want to show he was actually uneasy enough to need to prove he was right. Right about what exactly, he didn't know. But right anyway. Damon loved being right.

The annoying voice raised once again to the vampire's great displeasure.

"That does not mean he never killed a human. This man has no feelings, I tell you. The day you wake up, a stake sinking in your ribcage, pushed in by your very friend's hands, you'll remember I warned you."

The werewolf really enjoyed pissing him off.

Maybe Damon should repay the favor, and kill him on the spot.

But he went back to Elena's. He had silverware to give back.


	7. ATOR, part 7: He and I

_You never know when a sheriff in your house's basement might come in handy._  
 _After 2x05, I believe._

* * *

 _I'm fed up with being myself lately._  
 _Maybe I should try to be someone else._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 7: He and I**

Damon was feeling way too tired for a vampire when he walked in the Mystic Grill.

He hadn't exactly been surprised by Liz Forbes' reaction when she had found out about him and Stefan.

But still. He really meant it, that they were friends. He was surely one of the most manipulative kind of friends that would ever walk the Earth, but he cared about the sheriff. He even had evidences to substantiate: first of all, she was still alive. Even though she had let Mason Lockwood poison him with vervain. Even though she had trapped him. Even though she had tried to kill him and his brother. And he had been nice even when she had begun to insult him.

For Damon Salvatore, that was something new. With so many reasons, he usually would have killed her right away. Because, let's be realistic, it wasn't Caroline's whining that would be able to stop him if he decided to kill the sheriff.

Speaking of people that should have been on his blacklist for their actions and yet weren't, Alaric was sitting at the counter as the vampire had expected.

As he got closer, Damon was surprised to see that the teacher was reading a book with a worried look on his face.

Usually, Ric graded papers while drinking and nothing else.

But Damon wouldn't complain about this sudden change of habits. That was something he could decipher, unlike the unfazed demeanor he had been confronted with for days now. An incomprehensible but possible hint was always better than no hint at all. You can't try to decrypt what is not.

Alaric closed his book when he spotted the vampire coming, but did not put it away.

Damon sat on his favorite bar stool.

"Fancy seeing you here."

The teacher gave him a far from convinced look.

"We meet at the Grill everyday, Damon. What do you want?"

"Why do people always conclude I want something when I come to them with small talk?"

"Because you always want something when you come to people with small talk. So spill it out."

The vampire pretended to be outraged by so little faith in his goodwill, then dropped the act and asked for a glass of bourbon.

"What I want is for you to tell me what the hell you've been hidding from me, but as you don't seem to be willing to share, I am simply going to ask you about your reading."

Alaric glanced at the book then handed it to the vampire.

Damon couldn't know what he was searching for, and nothing could help him figure it out.

"I ordered the book Vanessa found in Isobel's office. The interesting chapter is basically a synthesis of what was written in the book you found about the Petrova family, but there are passages about what can be done with a human doppelganger and magic. It's rather ominous."

"Vanessa? You're already on first name ground?"

"She calls me every now and then, it's not like I can help it."

Damon frowned as he leafed through the book.

"Should I tell Jenna to worry?"

This time it was Ric's turn to frown.

"To worry about what?"

Damon looked up at him, half amused, half concerned.

"So I'm the one who should be anxious. Maybe she's aiming for the best friend spot instead of the lover spot."

Alaric rolled his eyes and took a sip of bourbon.

They kept on drinking for some more time, but in the end Alaric left with his book, saying he couldn't concentrate with Damon around, which was true enough.

Damon ordered one last drink then went back to the boarding house.

Once again, Ric had evaded his question.

Maybe it was time to talk to a specialist. Good thing he had one under hand. You never know when you'll need a sheriff in your basement.

When he entered the cell, Liz stiffened, but she looked more resigned than vindictive. She had hated vampires since forever, but she loved her daughter, even if their relationship was not the best. It was normal to be confused or abashed.

Damon was the one who asked her to give a look at the history teacher's past. Nothing had come out, besides the fact that his wife had been reported missing in two thousand and seven.

But there had to be something somewhere that would allow the vampire to finally understand what was going on with his best friend. Ric was exactly the same as before, they talked, drank, laughed together, but there was something strange that popped up from time to time.

And Damon didn't like it. Usually, when people weren't honest, something bad was to be expected.

He sat at a relatively respectful distance from the sheriff.

"What you told me about Alaric, was it all?"

"Why, you don't trust your drinking buddy anymore, vampire?"

Damon sighed.

Liz had been quite cooperative up till now, too shocked to have discovered that Caroline was actually dead and that she had been a vampire for some time already.

"Come on, Liz. I'm still me. In fact, I'm even more myself than your daughter is herself, since I was already a vampire when we met."

"You're a killer."

And there it was. World's oldest argument ever.

As if the sheriff did a thorough investigation before she decided to kill a vampire. Maybe this one had never killed anyone, or at least anyone not going after him or her. Maybe he or she still had a family that was happy enough that he or she was kind of alive. Vampire meant non-human. Not always inhumane.

"And you're not helping. People like you tend to make us murderers. That's exactly what happened when my father killed both his children."

Liz grew pale.

Damon and Stefan Salvatore. 1864. Had died during the night of the fire. Reported as victims of the vampires that were supposed to have been burnt in the church.

Those Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

"Giuseppe Salvatore killed his own sons?"

Oh, right. Elizabeth Forbes would never be able to kill her daughter, even though she was a vampire now. And back then, Stefan and him were still human. No matter what the situation, it was murder.

Parricide.

"We were young, foolish, and in love with a vampire. That was enough reason for him."

Damon sneered, but that was not as convincingly casual as he tried to make it sound.

"To bad for him, Katherine had been feeding us her blood for weeks. Stefan didn't know, obviously, but I did. We woke up. Worst surprise in his life, when Stefan went to see him and told him he wouldn't complete the transition."

"But you brother is..."

"Stuff happened. Our father tried to ensure his youngest son would die by staking him, but Stefan defended himself instinctively, father was injured, and the smell of blood was too enticing so Stefan lost it."

Ultimately, it was all their father's fault.

Liz vowed to never go down that road with Caroline, knowing it was a futile promise as she would soon forget everything, even this resolve. But as a mother, she needed to feel as if she wasn't a failure who would be able to kill her own flesh and blood.

She watched the vampire go with a somewhat mixed expression on her face. Sure, he was a monster and had killed people, but at the same time he was not such a bad man. Or at least he tried not to be one. He had only been alone for too long, hoping for something that was never meant to be.

Not long after his departure, the sheriff heard footsteps. Those belonged to Alaric Saltzman.

"What did you tell him?"

Liz looked at the hunter with a disgusted face.

"What I know. Which is pretty much nothing."

Alaric leaned against the wall.

They were the only ones in the boarding house, he had carefully checked. Stefan was with Elena at the Grill, and Damon had just stormed out. Why exactly the teacher didn't know, but he could make an educated guess. Investigation and all. Good thing Damon gave him the keys, in case of emergency. Damon investigating him was an emergency.

"I first suspected nothing, when Damon came to me and asked me to look into your background. But now, I see I really overlooked a lot of things. I don't even want to know how you got into this."

Ric had a sarcastic smile.

"He turned my wife because she begged him to do it."

Liz stiffened. None of this made sense.

"Maybe you thought I was some kind of psycho that loved to hang out with murderous monsters? Sorry to disappoint, but if I am indeed slightly insane, I don't enjoy slaughters. And I believe Damon is making progress about that, so I am willing to give him one more chance. After all, he and I suffered the same kind of treason from a woman, and I know what it feels like at first. If I hadn't been human when she... went away, I might have gone ballistic too. As a matter of fact, I did. Solely, his fits of rage are more consequent than mine, and so he did horrible things when I merely switched my extracurricular activities to vampire hunting."

"You...?!"

Liz was astonished to know there was a man in town, someone who was not part of the Founder's Council, who was used to staking vampires in his free time, and that she never knew about it.

The sheriff started to realize how she was so not up-to-date.

"I am the one who killed Logan Fell."

Silence.

"So you didn't tell him anything?"

"As I said, I do know nothing."

The hunter came in the cell, locked the door again, and looked into her eyes.

Liz wanted nothing more than to look away. But she couldn't.

There was something with this man's eyes.

Most of the time, they were calming, even laughing if he was in a good mood, or broody, restless when he was annoyed. But from time to time, they seemed so inhumane it would make anyone uncomfortable. Not the slightest emotion could be seen. The eyes were there, ocular globes, blue irises, black pupils. The person to whom they belonged was not here. Alaric Saltzman could not be seen in this body that was his.

Alaric Saltzman could be seen in this body that was his.

But he was not the man everyone used to know.

"And do you really know nothing?"

"Is there something to be known?"

"This kind of lies I can easily read, Mrs Forbes. And you are not the best liar I've met in my life."

The thing was, the teacher was surely the best liar in Mystic Falls when he was serious about it. Which was rarely the case. He didn't like to lie to people. But sometimes, you had to do things you don't like.

The sheriff looked down, then looked up, defiant.

"The only sure thing I can say is that, when I called your parents to assure that you were really Alaric Saltzman, your mother froze on the phone the moment I said I was from the Sheriff's office. Her voice trembled until I told her I was simply trying to contact you because we had found identity papers in your name along with some phone numbers."

The hunter's face was so expressionless it actually gave her the creeps.

"I'd want to say that I would appreciate it if you refrained from calling my family from now on, but since you will soon forget everything that happened these last days, there's no point to it. However, if you haven't said that to Damon already, I suggest you keep it to yourself."

Alaric got up, left the cell, locked it again, and then went away.

As much as she didn't like to agree with a vampire, Elizabeth Forbes had to give it to Damon that there was something suspicious about the way the man acted.


	8. ATOR, part 8: Something sour in his laug

_I too want to know what happens to a severed arm..._  
 _And I guess that for him to do such long studies, Alaric's family isn't so badly off._  
 _Anyway, there is more to it than I showed in this chapter. Unless it's what I want you to think?_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 8: Something sour in his laughter**

Alaric stared blankly at the paper he should have been trying to grade.

The world had been mean to him lately.

First of all, his wife was as undead as one can be. Then, some of his students happened to be or to have become supernatural beings. He also had become friends with a vampire. After that, a hundreds of years old hag with the same face as his kind-of-illegitimate-daughter-in-law-if-that-even-existed had come to town. To end with flourish, some werewolf had come back to Mystic Falls and now Vampires & Co were searching for a dog leash because no one in this freaking town was able to live peacefully with their fellows supernatural neighbours.

Peace and love, man. But no, peace is too simple, there's nothing funny about peace, so let's kill each other first, then we'll think of a way to coexist. It's always much easier to coexist when there is only one of the protagonists left.

And the worst of all, was that all of this was threateningly digging up his past.

Because Alaric Saltzman had a past. Isobel wasn't the only part of his life he was willing to erase.

Saltzman.

Damn name.

Damn family.

He had never done anything wrong. The accident was not something wrong. Even if you considered it the other way around, it was still the only thing that could have been done. Hell, he even was kind of a hero, in a way. But if the accident came to light, the teacher wasn't sure this town wouldn't do everything so that he would never even get a place anywhere.

Graduate of Duke University.

Laughable human high school history teacher in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Anyway, it was something of a miracle that he was even that much of a respectable person. If he had sticked to his family, he would have been much more. By running away as he did, not only he had denied the Saltzmans' wealth, their name and their connections, but also he had accepted to deal with the Saltzmans' legacy all by himself.

Which shoudn't have been a problem, if not for Isobel, her obsession and her treason.

Ric had been keeping himself in control for years. No sport, no fight. Every once in a while, he had snapped, and succumbing to provocation, had beaten the crap out of some idiot. But he was in no condition when it happened, so the guy was still alive, and Alaric was really glad for that, even the time he had gotten a black eye in the process.

The one that had thought he would be an easy target usually ended up in the hospital, but at least he was still alive.

Don't ever piss off a Saltzman, it's bad for your health. Even an out of shape Saltzman. Should have had some T-shirts printed.

The teacher was working on his self-control. As long as he stayed calm, nothing bad could happen even if he had to defend himself. But if he lost it...

Rabid people are prompt to do things they will later regret. But not every rabid person had the physical capacities and skills to make almost any human being powerless to do harm.

That was exactly why Alaric had never drank after the accident. That was exactly why Alaric had stopped doing sports after the accident. That was exactly why Alaric had sworn he would get out of this cursed family, and never set foot in Boston again.

He had kept his word for the third part of his oath.

Isobel had taken him out of the right path. He had begun to drink so much he was never sure of what had happened the night before for a full month. He had gone back to sports.

For now, there had been no casualties. Let us pray things would remain the same.

A window opened.

The teacher didn't look up.

He already knew who it was.

Because, seriously, who else could have guessed that Ric was at school in the midst of the night, squinting at essays that did never get any better even if he focused in a last attempt to believe miracles really existed?

The hunter heard the vampire come near him.

Damon sat down on a desk. Alaric wouldn't be the one to scold him for not sitting on a chair.

He watched Ric doing his teacher's stuff without saying a world until the hunter collapsed on his desk. Some papers flew off, and Damon caught one.

"I can't get anything done this evening."

"Well, considering one of your students thinks that World War Two happened during the eighteenth century, I can't really say you're missing something crucial."

"That one is Peter's, I am wrong?"

Damon took a look at the name written on the test paper, and was surprised to see Ric was right.

"You're not seriously telling me you can guess who did what from just an error?"

Alaric, the nose still glued to the desk, handed him a bunch of tests. Damon made three new attemps, and each time the teacher guessed right. The vampire got a bit upset, and switched to simply reading a line from a paper. Ric got it right five times out of six.

"I can't believe it..."

Ric gestured toward his bag that was laying on the floor.

"Bourbon and glasses, if you want some."

The vampire didn't need to be told twice.

The two of them drank a little then the teacher put the bottle back in the bag. He had to be operational for the next day, and none of them was really in the mood to cloud their minds too much. Still, a little alcohol was appreciated.

"I don't get it, Ric."

"What?"

"With what money do you buy that stuff? Aren't high school teachers supposed to be eternally bankrupt? And yet you have some expensive stuff and your loft is nothing if not expensive."

"I'm not paid much for my job, but I have some personal money."

"Family?"

"Yes and no. They're sending me cash every month, but I don't want anything to do with them, so I keep it and don't use it. But before I left, my aunt had me open a bank account for later, on which she put some dollars as a part of her husband's inheritance. He liked me a lot, and he was only part of the family through marriage, so I use it for extras."

"Your family must have quite a lot of money..."

Damon would never have thought he wasn't the only one to be stinking rich. Yet he had to admit that when Alaric deigned to wear something else than the basic shirt-pants-jacket, his suits were pretty well cut, even if they were not as showy as the Salvatores'.

"You have no idea."

Alaric gazed into space.

"Well, my parents aren't exactly rich, but those that live in the main house are loaded. And as my aunt is the head of the family... The thing is, you stay in the family, you make a lot of money. You don't, you're provided with enough money to live a decent life even without working very much, but you're not associated to the benefits. My father went away as soon as he could, and I did the same. It's not highly regarded by the others."

"I'm getting the feeling you're telling me about some organized crime family..."

Alaric laughed, but there was something sour in his laughter that made Damon uncomfortable.

"I swear to you it's not the case. But we're somewhat... strange. Some of us just want to run away, while the others argue that the best way is to stick together. Our name is not well known to the public, which make us very insteresting partners for transactions that are not to be leaked too soon, and we proved our reliability on many occasions."

"That definitely sounded suspicious."

"Being famous is not always the most efficient path to wealth."

"And you sound as suspicious as your family right now. They don't play the stock market, at least?"

The teacher made an outraged face, barely concealing his hilarity.

"Not to my knowing, but I haven't gone back to Boston since 1993. I'm not sure of anything anymore. The only people I met these last years are my parents, and some of my cousins, most of them being in the same situation as I am."

Damon said nothing for a while.

Maybe it was only that.

He knew how much growing up in a dysfonctional family, let alone a wealthy family, could ruin a man. Alaric seemed to have had a rather normal childhood, since his immediate relatives weren't exactly part of the problem, but if some aunt or uncle came to visit with cruel words and expensive suits, the happiness bubble could pretty easily be blown up.

Yet that didn't explain the heavy impression that emanated from Alaric when the teacher was seriously pissed or scarily neutral.

Never mind.

He had gained enough informations for now. He'd better not push his luck.

Now was the time to confess his sins. Or, at least, one, because if he had to do so for everything he shouldn't have done in his long life, they'd still be at it for the teacher's next birthday.

"I stole your book."

Ric looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"You felt that your personal library wasn't enough anymore?"

The vampire had expected something more... well, he didn't know, but something more anyway.

" _Family Curses and Cursed Families_ , I guess that's the one you're talking about? I've seen you do it and chose not to say anything."

"Why?"

"You'd have taken it anyway."

That wasn't completely false, but yet.

Alaric was playing with a grey pencil that went back and forth between his figers. At this time, it looked really like a small sized stake and Damon really didn't know what to think of it.

"Found anything interesting?"

"Not that you overlooked, if that's what you mean."

The vampire then noticed that his friend was wearing his poker face. There was something more to this question. Unless Ric wanted him to believe there was something more to this question. The vampire refrained from showing how much he was pissed by all that game of dissimulation. Instead, he tried to recall the things that he had cast aside as not relevant.

The thing was, that they were irrevelant. So why would Alaric bother with them?

There were things about werewolves, and how their story was so old that only the families that had been exterminated could be almost surely identified.

There were things about Elena and Katherine, how they were not the first ones in the family to be doppelgangers, even though the author had lost track of the Petrovas after the slaughter in 1492.

There were things about the Folegatti, another family of doppelgangers, however males, that had disappeared in the early seventeenth century.

There were things about strange curses, which affected the people of one family without the need to be triggered, such as making them unable to swim or immune to any form of supernatural occurences. The Kangs, the Sakias, the Falkenbachs, the Ioannis. All of them were supposedly human, but most of them could be turned or mixed with others species if a witch married into the family for example. The Singhs would inexplicably die as soon as their blood was altered, preventing them from becoming vampires, or having children with another species.

Or at least that was what the author of the book had found out.

"I'm not sure that half of this is true, anyway. That's the thing, with the supernatural: you can't know unless you saw."

Alaric stretched. He really needed to get some sleep.

"I checked the facts. If some can't be properly investigated, there are others that seems to be oddly true. Anyway, I've always wondered: if I cut a vampire's arm, does it grow back or just cicatrize?"

"I won't sever my arm for you to see if it regenerates."

"Such a pity."


	9. ATOR, part 9: Honesty

_Somewhere between 2x10 and 2x11_

* * *

 _Soon, soon... I will soon introduce an original character, but not yet... for now, drunkards will do._  
 _Gosh, I want to write about her right now..._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 9: Honesty**

They had been at the Grill for almost an hour.

Damon and him usually talked little during the first hour. Neither of them was good with honesty. They had to have some alcohol in their system before considering any informations exchange that had nothing to do with an immediate threat upon the peaceful city of Mystic Falls.

Alaric suspected that he hadn't completely threw the vampire off the trail yet, but he also knew there were secrets he would never reveal, even under bourbon's influence. Maybe, one day, he'd tell Damon about it. But he'd do it consciously, and not under anyone or anything's influence.

After all, it wasn't as if the vampire had never done worst than what he did.

One day he'll tell Damon about it.

But it'll have to wait.

It's not that he didn't trust the vampire. Ric did trust Damon. Up to some point, at least. Or, more accurately, he trusted him about some things, and didn't about some others. He could have bet his life that Damon would do things right to keep Elena alive. He wouldn't have bet one buck that Damon would do that ethically.

That was definitely something the hunter could say to his friend.

But the problem wasn't Damon.

The problem was himself. The problem was the kids. The problem was everyone else.

Don't say anything, and it'll be the same as if nothing had ever happened.

Ric was silent, watching his glass being refilled once more with amber liquid. The last days had been quiet for him, except for Katherine compelling Jenna to stab herself, but well, for Mystic Falls, that wasn't much. No one died, in the end. So, quiet, for him. Not for Damon: Elena being kidnapped, the Original Elijah, Rose...

Damon had almost forgot about his friend's strange attitude. Almost. Maybe it was time to go back to business and harass Alaric some more. The only thing that was keeping him from doing so was that for now he had no idea about what to do.

"So, you and Rose?"

The question surprised him. Damon hadn't thought that Ric knew about it.

"Rose and me nothing. We're just on the way to become friends."

"Better than nothing, no? You need some friends."

"I've got you already. One friend is infinitely more than what I had for the last ten years. But yes, Rose is kind. I don't know, maybe it's just pity, but I feel like if I can't help her to get better, at least I should be able to do so that she won't get worse."

"The two of you have had seclusion issues. You can help her."

Damon thought he had seen a little disappointment in Ric's eyes, and that made him angry. He didn't know why he was angry that the teacher had hoped he had a thing for Rose, but he was angry.

Maybe Alaric was thinking about Elena's safety? Damon hadn't tried anything for days! And the girl was adequately gifted to put herself in danger out of her own free will, so Damon's presence was necessary. Stefan was always doing as she told him, independence blah blah blah, but one day Elena would agree to trade her life for just anyone, and that day, Damon would be here to prevent her from doing something stupid.

Well, the vampire hadn't exactly been not flirting with the teenager, but he was Damon Salvatore, and Damon Salvatore flirted with anyone as long as they weren't utterly ugly. It would be the case until the day he wouldn't be single anymore. Which wasn't likely to be anytime soon.

The vampire then realized that thinking about Elena didn't hurt so much as it used to.

He still liked her a lot, he might even love her a little, but he wasn't half as jealous as before.

Maybe he was finally getting over his doppelganger obsession.

And he had a feeling it was all thanks to Ric.

The hunter's phone rang at the exact moment Damon was opening his mouth to say something nice. How much he was thankful to Alaric for being his sole friend on the whole planet, how the man had a positive influence on him, or maybe how the unpretentiousness of their friendship helped him a lot to be a bit more honest.

The vampire gritted his teeth.

He wouldn't say a word.

But he was hoping that Ric would stay here. Ignore the phone call. Talk with him about everything and nothing. Be here.

It was Vanessa Monroe calling. Alaric picked up and pushed his way outside of the noisy place that was the Mystic Grill this early in the evening.

It hurt more than thinking that Elena was going out with his brother instead of him, than knowing that Katherine had always loved Stefan and never loved him for real, than being aware that his father had always preferred his youngest son over his eldest. Damon didn't get why, but it hurt more.

He watched Alaric go and ordered another drink.

The whole story with the student was getting problematic.

Alaric knew she only meant to be useful. And to satisfy her curiosity, too. But the point was that she had no ill intention towards him.

The thing was that, by researching why Isobel had pulled out the chapter about the Falkenbachs, the young woman was doing something completely useless. Not only the hunter already knew what was written in the book before he had an opportunity to read it, but he also had a pretty clear idea why his wife had destroyed this particular chapter.

She had hand-pulled the pages about the Petrovas because she was part of that family.

The reason she had done the same with the Falkenbachs chapter was obvious.

"Vanessa?"

There was no one outside of the Grill, and that was convenient for him.

Ric wondered for how long Isobel had known.

After she decided she'd be a vampire? Before? After their wedding? Before?

 _"I searched every databases I have access to, and nothing. Apparently, the Falkenbachs are really all dead and buried since the Nuremberg trials."_

"That's not exactly surprising. I mean, even if the last Falkenbach hadn't been condamned and hadn't died shortly after that, people die and families die out. It happens, that's all."

 _"I know, but why would Isobel go out of her way to destroy a chapter from a book you can get just by ordering it if this chapter had nothing to do with living persons?"_

She did it so that he'd know she knew.

Alaric wouldn't tell that to the young woman, though.

"Maybe what she was interested in wasn't a person but a thing, a piece of information?"

A car parked two lots away from him.

 _"If that's the case, I really don't know what to do now..."_

Three men got out of the car and entered the Grill. One of them was already seriously drunk and vociferated when he bumped into a car. They looked like troublemakers, but as long as they didn't have fangs, claws, magical powers, or weren't students, it was none of his business.

"Just let it go. You did a good job, and it's not even your problem to begin with. It wouldn't be the first time we don't have all the informations. So please, go back to your studies, and don't get involved."

If Vanessa could do that, Ric would have one less worry. He really wished she'd listen to him.

She tried to say something, but he interrupted her.

"Don't say you won't if you will. There's no point in lying, and I won't come to tie you up to a chair if you decide to get involved, but I'd prefer to know you'll be safe, that's all."

There was an awkward silence, then the student hung up without a word.

At least she hadn't lied.

Alaric sighed. His worries didn't go anywhere.

He went back inside and sat next to Damon only to find him pouting while staring ferociously at his glass of bourbon. The teacher said nothing at first, but after three minutes of silence he got bored and took matters into his own hands.

Damon felt fingers on his jaw.

Ric's hand was trying to force him to turn his head and look at the man.

The vampire considered not to give the teacher satisfaction, but the pressure of his friend's fingertips on his cheekbone and chin was getting stronger as time went by. If he had been human, resisting anymore would have gotten him bruises.

He slowly turned his head and looked at Ric.

"Is anything the matter?"

The teacher looked genuinely pissed at him, but also kind of worried, and that was kind of nice to know someone was interested in how he felt.

"That's exactly what I want to ask you, Damon."

Ric let go of him, and the vampire didn't go back to ruminating his thoughts.

"If you have something to say, say it to my face."

"This Monroe girl whistles and you comes running with your tail between your legs? Seriously?"

Alaric endeavored not to let a snarky remark out and stared at his friend, puzzled.

Damon was definitely averting his eyes.

The terribly dangerous blue eyes, the deceiving, the seductive, the appealing, the striking ice-blue eyes of Damon Salvatore were fleeing Alaric Saltzman's perfectly average gaze.

"I can't believe I'm going to ask you that, Damon, but... are you perhaps jealous?"

The vampire choked on his bourbon.

"Jealous? Why would I..."

"Forget it. That was a stupid idea. But you looked like you were jealous of Vanessa, which would be pretty hilarious since I only talk to her on the phone when the two of us spend hours drinking together and hunting evil creatures."

Exactly. Why would the vampire be jealous anyway?

Alaric was simply trying to keep a clueless girl alive, nothing more. And Damon knew from experience that it wasn't a simple task. There were people, such as Elena, who couldn't help but end up getting involved in problems that weren't their own. The Gilbert girl was a special case, however: she had that particular talent to willingly choose to get in trouble for every seal pup in distress she saw when she already had her fair share of problems on her own.

There was nothing to be envious of.

But shit, Damon was jealous.

Admitting it freaked him out, but it was the truth. The vampire was envious of a female student that called his best friend once a day for ten minutes at most and he didn't know what to do about that.

The teacher had gone back to drinking when he heard Damon's voice once again.

"I don't know, Ric. I've no idea why, but I'm jealous as hell thinking about how you befriend this Monroe girl. I'm desperately trying to believe that it's because she definitely is suspicious, that she's stealing you away from me, Jenna and the kids. All I know is that I don't like you walking away from our drinking times to answer your phone."

So much honesty from the vampire startled his friend.

An imbibed voice coming from his right prevented the hunter from thinking too much about it.

"True men are not supposed to be so emotional over each other, little girl."

Alaric looked at Damon, who was ignoring the comment, then looked beside him. It was without a doubt one of the idiots from before.

Ric hoped he would be wise enough to shut up now, but the man was too drunk to act as a responsible adult. Or maybe he was a moron and an asshole to begin with.

"My pals and I are going on a road trip, and we thought that we could take the opportunity and wipe clean the area of men like you. You know, emotional, fragile..."

Damon smirked.

That was side-splitting.

The frail man he was was precisely considering some splitting.

Ribs splitting. Head and body splitting. There were many delicate ways to take care of fools.

Alaric was getting a little worried. Things were definitely going to get out of control. And he wasn't in the mood to burry any corpse.

The man tried to say something else, but his nose met with the hunter's fist and broke.

He then tried to insult Ric, but blood was pervading his filthy mouth from his broken nose.

Alaric stood up, rated the tree morons' strength and retained a disdainful sneer.

"Leave now. You had enough to drink for toni... more likely, today."


	10. ATOR, part 10: The same eyes

_Okay, that'll be all for tonight. Next ten chapters tomorrow... more or less._

* * *

 _Yes, strange and old names are a thing in the Saltzman Family. Got a problem with that?_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 10: The same eyes**

The Grill was so silent that Damon almost thought somebody had turned the sound off.

He had been surprised by Alaric's intervention. Surprised and many other things. Disappointed because he had hoped he could have beaten this guy and his friends to a pulp almost legitimately. Pleased to hear the sound of the nose breaking. Thunderstuck with the efficacity of the punch. Relieved that Ric wouldn't let him do something stupid. Heartened to have a friend that cared enough about him to stop any moron from insulting him.

This whole situation was so heartwarming that the vampire didn't even react at the scent of blood.

Not even interested.

Alaric saw the man leering at some completely dumbfounded customer holding a dinner knife. This idiot was definitely full of bad ideas.

"You get out of here. Now."

"Don't believe the likes of you can order us around, you little shi..."

The man reached out for the knife, but the hunter was faster than he was.

Ric seized his arm and pinned it to the bar counter. Then, as the man struggled to get free from his grip, he squezzed so hard his fingers began to ache and he heard some crackles. He wasn't sure if it was his or the man's bones that were announcing an upcomming shattering.

The guy wasn't exactly unable to move, as the blood running down his face, the forced position and the strain on his arm were so much that he began to shake. Shaking was no immobility. It was way worse. Way more painful.

He lifted his head, ready for another round of verbal abuse. Then his eyes met with the teacher's, and what he saw was so terrifying his face went blank. No word, let alone insult, was uttered.

"I won't say it again."

That was kind of awesome to see the local history teacher outpowering a thug with no difficulty, but that was also kind of problematic. People were already whispering about example and a lot of things Damon chose not to hear.

Alaric let go of the man who basically ran away as soon as he could walk straight again.

"I'm so used to see you battling against monsters with supernatural strength that I forgot yours isn't so common as well..."

The hunter grimaced. His fingers were still shaking, but he suspected it was his own fault. He just needed to realize that his opponent, even if he could hardly call him that, was ultimately alright. Or at least alrighter than he would have been if the hunter had let Damon deal with it. A lot less dead, to begin with. So, what he did was a good thing. He used his capacities for the well-being of someone, which was pretty ironic. He hadn't lost control.

His fingers weren't shaking anymore.

"I only train a lot."

"Not so much. Not as much as you should to be able to pull such a stunt. And let's not talk about your muscular mass, that is perfectly formed but nowhere near enough to explain your prowess."

"What do you want me to say? Some people have more efficient bodies, that's all. And what, are you spying on me?"

Damon didn't answer. He had other things on his mind.

"What about the fools? For what you know, they could as well be waiting for you outside?"

"They are. They always are."

So the teacher had some experience with bar fights.

That wasn't the most intriguing thing. Damon had other interests, right now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Many reasons. Pick the one you like best."

That was an evasive answer for sure. But the vampire wanted to know if his friend had acted for him, if he had thought about him, even just a little, when his fist had came into physical contact with the disgusting face of the moron.

"Let's try again: did you do it for him, or for me?"

Alaric frowned, unsure of what his friend meant.

"I could say both, I guess. But, Damon, who do you want it to be for?"

The question was left unanswered.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back. And to take care of some garbage."

The hunter paid for his drinks, and left. Damon was so uneasy about the question that he didn't understand what Ric meant for at least fifty seconds.

Right. There was human trash waiting for Alaric outside.

The vampire supposed the teacher could handle it, but he didn't want him to be injured. And he had to return the courtesy, somehow. He should really go after him.

Ric was standing next to his car, listening to a deplorable conversation between tree drunkards that weren't even able to notice he was here. That wasn't so difficult to see him, but well. He had already guessed they weren't so bright.

The man whose nose he had broken was pressing a tissue on his face and talking in a low, wasted voice, so to say, loudly, to his two acolytes.

"You don't get it, guys. This man was a monster."

"You're only saying that because he ridiculed you..."

At least that was not so stupid. Still, even if one out of three was a bit smarter than the others, the teacher could tell they wouldn't leave him alone. Too bad for them.

"Not at all! That wasn't his strength or his skills, and believe me, he has some, but his eyes that made me unable to fight back. I had this feeling that he would have killed me without second thought. And a man like that, you can't leave him off the streets. It's our duty to get rid of him!"

Yeah, Alaric had had this idea too, after the accident. But self-murder was such a hassle.

Really, had people that killed themselves thought about the friends they'd left behind? About the ones who would have to clean their mess? About the person that would discover their corpse?

And there was the hesitation. And there was the pain. And there was the possibility of a failed attempt. And there was the eventuality of sequelae.

Also, back then, he was only fifteen. He couldn't say he had been very eager to end his life.

"So, when he get out, the two of you grab him, and then I..."

The thug took a knife from one of his friends' hand.

Alaric sighed. Why were they all so fond of knives?

Knives were dangerous. It was so much easier to kill a man with something sharp than without.

The fool just boosted his odds to be killed.

Not that the teacher wanted to kill him. Simply, if he ever got a hold of the weapon, if the man ever tried to retaliate, he couldn't swear he wouldn't use every means available to stop the fight.

Ric coughed to avert them of his presence.

When Damon finally came out, the first thing he saw was his friend kneeing someone in the sternum violently, knife in hand.

"I guess you did not need my help after all..."

"They've been drunk for hours. It's not much of a challenge."

The guy fell on the ground with a dull noise. One of his friends was pucking from a fist in the stomach, and the last one was simply unconscious. Alaric planted the knife in the ground, next to a small tree.

"Now I really need to go home."

"I'll take you back."

"I can walk."

"You prevented me from killing somebody tonight, I'm going to take you back to your apartment. I won't take no as an answer, because it's not a suggestion."

The ride was silent. Neither of them wished to talk about it.

When Damon dropped the teacher at his loft, a woman was waiting for him at the door.

The vampire saw Ric stiffen at the sight.

She lifted her head.

"Alaric."

So they knew each other.

Then again, that was pretty obvious. Why would an unknown woman be waiting at a man's door, if they weren't acquainted?

The vampire gave her a quick look. She was kind of beautiful, not exactly his type, but well, that wasn't the point. In her twenties, tall enough, thin and sporty, she had blue eyes and dark hair.

In fact, she had the same eyes as Ric.

"Cassandre."

And a strange name too.

Damon wasn't saying that the hunter's name was lame. Alaric was a great name, but uncommon.

The vampire frowned when he noticed there was a suitcase against the wall.

"I need your help. It happened."

Damon looked at the teacher, waiting for explanations. All he saw was emptiness struggling with sadness in Alaric's eyes. There was definitely something odd going on. Something wrong.

Ric confirmed his thoughts by shutting him out to talk with the mysterious woman that looked a little like him. His friend only muttered so that the girl wouldn't hear him.

"If you dare to listen to any of the words that are going to be said, Damon, I swear I'll stake you in the guts once a day for a whole year."

And he shut the door to his loft. That was really not to the vampire's liking. But what could he do? Pretend to be a jackass and listen? That wouldn't do any good to their friendship. Damon knew he wouldn't be able to pretend that he hadn't heard everything.

The only thing he could do was going back to the boarding house.

Alaric listened to the infuriated footsteps of the vampire before saying anything.

Once he was certain Damon had left, he sat next to his cousin.

"Twenty-four. You're luckier than I am."

Luck. What a joke!

"There is no luck in this."

Cassandre was right. Yet she wasn't. She was lucky in her misfortune. A lot more than he had been.

"At least you're an adult. I was only fifteen. Your father?"

"Abroad. With yours."

That was surprising. Edward Saltzman usually stayed away from the rest of the family, and so did Alden Saltzman. The two brothers were in good terms, but seeing each other was too much of a reminder of their sister Landyn, the current head of the family.

But it wasn't the moment to ask. Cassandre needed his attention, and privacy.

That was why Alaric couldn't let Damon hear what was going to be said. His family legacy wasn't so much compared to the well-being of his cousin.

"And your brother?"

"He got a contract in Philadelphia. And he is one of those among us that chose to embrace what we are. I want nothing to do with such a person. Besides, you were always my favourite cousin, and I think we're somewhat similar, family inheritance put aside."

The teacher could only agree. No one outside of the main house wanted anything to do with Theodoric. To put it simply, Theodoric was the worst of the currently living Saltzmans. If Ric were to compare Cassandre's brother with Damon, the vampire would have won in terms of humanity.

"And what happened exactly?"

What Cassandre needed right now was someone to talk to, and not a psychopath who'd tell her it was absolutely normal not to care at all. Someone as Alaric, that had always hated this side of his personality, and yet had managed to move on.

The thing was that she didn't know what he had been up to since Isobel's disappearance. Ric ignored this thought. He still hated being as he was, even if he used it to his advantage. He could be of help.

"Forty-eight years old. He grabbed me outside of the university. I was late, it was dark. I think he wanted to rape me."

A lot more common than Ric's. For him, it had been a hold-up at the bank. Dozens of people had saw him. Even if his name was never given to the media, he had seen his face in the newspapers for days.

No one was ever spared by their own, personal, family curse.


	11. ATOR, part 11: A mark of shame

**_So, the ten next chapters... and, as much as I don't like to sound like a beggard, you're welcome to leave reviews._**

* * *

 _Sorry if you think there isn't enough Dalaric in this chapter, but for now, Ric is very busy with his family problem. I hope you can forgive him._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 11: A mark of shame**

"I should have slept on the sofa."

Cassandre's voice woke Alaric up.

As a civilized man, as a family member, and as a man who knew what his cousin had been through, the teacher had decided he'd sleep on the sofa while she'd sleep in his bed.

"As if. Get ready, we still have a lot to do before you can move on."

Ric stretched, his muscles somewhat sore.

Move on was a big word. Moreover, a word that meant pretty much nothing for a Saltzman, in this situation. All of them never even had to move on, because they weren't affected by their own acts. However, some of them knew it wasn't supposed to be so, and that made them inconfortable.

Most of these Saltzmans were the ones that deserted the main house, such as Alaric, his father and Cassandre's father.

Theodoric was certainly not amongst them, and neither was Landyn.

Alaric took a shower then ate a little, while Cassandre was doing the same, only not in this order.

Then they drove out to the wood surrounding Mystic Falls.

"No one should come, but stay attentive. We never know, around here."

They finally found a spot far away from the road, concealed from view by brushes and trees, and settled there. The hunter hoped none of the fanged residents of the town would choose to take a walk during the time they needed to do what had to be done, especially Stefan, who habitually went hunting sooner in the day, but once again, you never know.

They didn't need any blood-lover to smell what was going to happen.

That he couldn't tell his cousin about.

"How did you find me?"

She looked at him, far from convinced by his feigned ignorance.

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Landyn has me monitored."

That wasn't even a question. Even those who wanted to get away couldn't in the end.

"Well, she doesn't ask how you spend your time, but she has your license plate controlled every now and then. And, of course, she makes sure you don't get yourself into trouble."

What Alaric had gotten himself into lately was way worse than any trouble he could have had with the law, but he was glad his aunt didn't know about that. As long as nothing involving authorities came to the light, he was certain she would leave him alone.

What Alaric had gotten himself into lately was way worse than any trouble he could have had with the law, but he was glad his aunt didn't know about that. As long as nothing involving authorities came to the light, he was certain she would leave him alone.

Truth to be told, the teacher hadn't exactly thought it through when he had decided to leave everything and start a vendetta. If he ever died at the hand of a vampire, his family would request an investigation, even if his death was reported as an animal attack. If he disappeared without a word, it'd be one hell of a ruckus in Boston.

But he had an excuse. His wife had been murdered-or-so-he-thought, for God's sake.

"I guess she wasn't exactly pleased to hear that you chose me over the ones from the main house to do the job?"

"If she actually had emotions, I'd say she was furious as hell. But you know her, the most you can get is the neutral face or the creepy smile."

Ric was good enough at that too, but well, everybody in their family could pull off a poker face pretty easily. That was the thing when you had no feelings about one thing in particular: you knew how to fake it for the other emotions as well.

"You didn't tell me how he died."

Here came the difficult part.

But Cassandre had to talk to someone about it, not some police officer or detective that knew nothing about who she really was, not only as a human being, but as one of the cursed Saltzmans.

And Alaric had to know in order to do what had to be done correctly.

"He silenced me with his hand and twisted my right arm. But, you know, it's nowhere enough to stop us from fighting back. So I escaped from his grip by turning around, and I bashed his head against the wall until he let go."

"You surely didn't have much trouble with the police?"

"It was self-defense, and you know our lawyers... no detective could have found anything to blame me for."

Cassandre was certain her cousin understood what she was talking about. He had made it through worse than her thanks to them. After all, he had almost beheaded the assaulter with the man's very knife when the robber had tried to carry out his threats against a child.

Almost professionally.

One motion only.

And blood had poured down on the floor.

And the man had fallen down.

As dead as one can be.

At least it was legitimate in both cases.

Ric searched for an empty vial and a knife in the bag he had brought along. He cleaned the blade with a tissue and some disinfectant. It would be stupid for his cousin to get an infection out of that.

"Let's get to work."

Cassandre nodded and took off her shirt.

He did the same.

Last time he had participated in that kind-of-ritual, he hadn't been the one holding the knife, as evidenced by the star-shaped scar on his left shoulder.

He let Cassandre watch his scar for a while before judging it was enough.

"I don't think there is any material purpose in doing that, but it's still a good way to never forget what we are. No one in this family has ever been able to feel a thing after taking someone's life. It shouldn't be, yet it is. The ease with which the Saltzmans are able to kill is inhumane. If you choose to forget that, you will only end up killing someone else. Again. And again. And as you're one of us, Cassandre, you won't ever feel guilty about it. You may chose to feel guilty about the fact that a family lost a loved one, you may want to feel guilty about the fact that you took away a man or woman's life. But you won't ever feel guilty about the killing itself. Not even if you wish for it."

Alaric took a last glance at his cousin's face.

Cassandre looked back at him with those eyes filled with emptiness he knew too well.

"Because we are natural born killers."

That's right. They were.

He pushed aside the strap of her bra. Then he put the edge of the blade against her skin.

Alaric pressed the knife against her shoulder, and a reddish drop emerged from the growing cut.

One inch. Two. Three.

He withdrew the blade.

Turned it so he could trace a second branch, that would be the exact same length as the first one, and that would meet it in its middle.

Alaric pressed the knife. A scarlet drop ran down the young woman's back.

The blood fell down in the vial's aperture without making a sound.

He withdrew the blade.

Turned it so he could trace a third branch, that would be the exact same length as the two other ones, and that would meet them in their middle.

Alaric pressed the knife. A ruby drop slipped down the blade.

The lifeblood hurried its way to her lower back.

He withdrew the blade.

Turned it so he could trace a fourth and last branch, that would be the exact same length as the three cuts that had preceded it, and that would meet them in their middle.

Alaric pressed the knife. A bloody drop rolled in the vial.

He withdrew the blade.

And that was it.

Cassandre had said nothing, and had stayed still all along the process.

"You're okay?"

"It hurts a little."

Ric cleaned his knife once again, then handed her the vial.

She took it, unsure of what to do.

"In fact, it doesn't really hurts. It's more like a dull feeling of burning, or maybe tingling. What do I do now?"

"Wait a bit for the blood to stop flowing."

"I meant with that."

The teacher glanced at the vial she was holding in front of her eyes.

It was true that keeping some of your own blood in your purse was kind of gross.

His was still in the cardboard he had shamefully hidden under his bed.

"You can throw it away if you want to."

"What did you do with it?"

"I kept it."

There was no reason to it. That was the tradition, nothing more. No purpose, explanation, or goal. Only the fact that having it among his things used to have the same effect on him as his scar. A reminder that even if he was a human being, he wasn't as human as he should have been.

They waited, and before they knew it, one other hour had passed. Alaric drove Cassandre back to his loft, then decided to go for a walk.

He was near the center of Mystic Falls when he thought that he really needed a drink.

But he wouldn't go to a crowded place. Not after what he had done. The hunter wasn't asking for much. His family really had strange traditions. At first he had thought it was ridiculous to hurt yourself in the name of tradition. But that was before the accident. When he had killed for the first time, Ric had understood that was not so stupid. The pain inflicted was an offering to make up for the lack of guilt. The scar was a mark of shame for the one who could kill relentlessly without the slightest remorse.

What he needed was a friend.

On the boarding house front porch, he met Elena who was leaving.

The teenager looked at him with surprise. He could understand that. He himself hadn't expected he'd come, and he had called in sick for the day one hour only after Cassandre's arrival, the day before.

And if he wasn't wearing his blank face right now, and hell he had no idea about whether or not he was wearing it, he surely looked like shit.

"Damon's here?"

Elena nodded, so he went in, but before she left she asked him about the events of the night.

"The guy you punched and his friends... They were taken to the hospital. You knew about it?"

"I really wonder why. They must have pissed off someone else, and that didn't went well."

That wasn't exactly an answer, he knew it. She'd have to deal with it.

She left mumbling about a spell Bonnie was working on.

He found Stefan in the living room, reading a book. The hunter didn't even need to ask, the vampire immediately told him Damon was upstair. From the sounds that came from the ceiling, Ric guessed his friend needed company. The vampire seemed to be talking to himself.

Ric climbed the stairs. He saw Rose staring at him via the open door of the room she was staying in, so he gave her a polite hello. She rolled her eyes and made a gesture towards the noisy room that was Damon's.

"What did you do?"

The teacher shrugged his shoulders. Why would it even be his fault?

"He's been like that since he came back yesterday. When we try to talk to him, he just ignore us."

Wondering what was going on exactly, Alaric opened the door, only to find Damon shaking a wolf skin rug all over the place while holding a stake that he pretended was speaking to the rug. The vampire stopped to look at him. He was definitely pissed, and what he said then made no sense.

"I'm currently picturing this stake as you, you as a werewolves hunter, the carpet as a werewolf, and enjoying myself very much."

It was more likely that he was taking his anger out on the rug. Which was a lot better than doing it on a living creature. But yet, it was strange, even for Damon.


	12. ATOR, part 12: I'm out of here

_Before and during 2x12_

* * *

 _(mumble) English lessons are the worst. I hate english. What the hell with the fucking aspirated h? I'm sorry I'm only good at reading, writing, listening, and not at talking. Fucking pronunciation. What if I slaughtered every person that wants me to talk english? Let's do this. (realize) What, someone is actually reading this? So sorry._  
 _But I feel way better now._

 _A chapter in which you know for sur I'm french._  
 _In which you know for sure I love the first name Alaric._

 _And hell, I save characters if I want to._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 12: I'm out of here**

"How much have you drunk?"

The vampire let go of his accessories and walked towards Ric with an angered face.

There was only a third of a meter left between them when Damon stopped and looked right into the teacher's eyes. He wasn't half as drunk as the time Alaric actually had to lead him to his room, but he certainly wasn't sober.

And he couldn't have cared less in the world.

Ric shut him out? Good. He wasn't needed anyway, so why would he care? If only another werewolf could came in town, he would gladly handle it, so that it'd prevent him from seeing any known face! He knew that if ever he went after the Lockwood boy, he'd be in trouble with Elena and Stefan. The other people he would upset by doing so were uninteresting. And Alaric was already on his blocklist. But if he could find a werewolf, that would be great.

He definitely was in the mood for some torture.

The teacher's face, who seemed kind of tired, pissed him off some more.

"That I can't answer. You can count the bottles if you want. I'm out of here."

And with that said, he left.

Ric had stood dazed in the room for almost two minutes, when Stefan went upstair to get an explanation. Obviously, the man was in no position to explain anything, beyond the fact that yes, Damon was by all the odds drunk, but no, that wasn't it. Alcohol didn't get the vampire angry. Dizzy, for sure, dangerous, too, shameless, finally, but not angry like that.

"He didn't hurt you?"

Alaric gave Stefan a puzzled look. Did he look like he was hurt?

"You have a feint and bloody scent on you, so I was wondering."

"Oh, right. I cut myself shaving this morning and it got kind of messy. I had forgotten about that."

Liar.

"If ever Damon says something about a girl he saw at my place, she's my cousin. From what I understand, he got grumpy after I told him he couldn't stay because of her. I don't know anything more, though."

The vampire raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Ric guessed Stefan was as dumbfounded by his brother's demeanor as he was.

He finally left. Everything had been way too awkward, the two of them standing in Damon's room in silence.

On his way to his loft, he wondered why his best friend had acted so strangely lately. It wasn't only the sulking part. Those questions, when they were at the Grill, after he had punched the fool. Alaric hadn't given him a proper answer, because he felt Damon needed to find out on his own. But the hunter hadn't expected it to drag on for so long.

As for him, Ric knew the answer: the man was pissing him off, made too much noise, and was going to get himself killed. Also, you don't just leave some thug insult your best friend for the sole reason that the man had a leather jacket and two lip piercings.

He had done it for the man, even though he couldn't have cared less about what would become of him, for himself, because you can't enjoy your drink when there is a bunch of morons wreacking havock all around you, for Damon, because that was the right thing to do.

Why couldn't the vampire understand that? It was simple. Genuine, really. No need to overthink it.

The teacher cared about Damon. That was all.

The kids liked him a lot, even the ones that weren't part of the Vampire & Co or Affiliated Secret Society, because yes, even if Ric tended to forget lately, he was still a high school teacher, and he didn't want to see them hurt any more. To bad that it was likely to happen anyway. He cared about them. But they were kids. His students didn't know the slightest thing about him, and that was for the best. Elena, Jeremy and the others were important. But they were kids. He watched out for them.

Damon was a friend. As Jenna, he was one of the only adults that had gotten to know him since he came to Mystic Falls. One of his two only friends in the whole damned town. As such, the teacher cared about them a lot. When your circle of friends comes down to two people, you tend to pay extra attention to them.

Or at least he did.

When he had told Damon to fuck off earlier, he knew that the vampire was angry. But not like that.

That was the result of alcohol on a mind he couldn't decipher for now.

Which was odd. Alaric was pretty much the only one around here that could brag about understanding Damon. For him not to comprehend his friend, he must have had missed something. None of the reasons he could imagine explained anything. There was something, obviously, but the hunter's brain didn't seem to even be able to consider what had to be the right answer.

Ric got out of the car and found Cassandre waiting for him.

She had her suitcase with her.

He frowned.

"You're going already?"

She didn't look really happy to do so, but she also knew she had to go.

"When dad said he would go to Italy with your father, I thought something was wrong. And apparently, I wasn't wrong about it. Landyn just called. Everybody is going home."

Everybody. Even those that had fled the main house, in other words.

"Something happened?"

"I don't know what, but yes. She asked for you to come back, too."

"I won't."

No matter what, he wouldn't go back to Boston. Not for now. There was too much to do in Mystic Falls. Too many people he cared about. Too much danger. And he still had a lot to think about before he would ever set foot in the main house again.

That included vampires, werewolves, Originals, witches, and some research about the Falkenbach Curse. He needed to know if it was an actual thing, or if the people of their two families just had a screw loose. If it really had anything to do with magic, maybe a witch could help him to end the infernal circle that lead every single person from his family to kill someone one day or another.

Cassandre shrugged.

"You won't like it if she comes for you."

"I won't like it either if I go back."

The young woman had a timid smile.

"Good luck with that."

Alaric cocked his head to the side, confused. She looked genuinely happy about his decision. As if he was being brave or something.

"You know I'm only running away, don't you?"

Her smile went from shy to cocky.

"No you're not. You're living your own life, Alaric. I wish you to be happy."

Once she had left, Ric went to bed, thoughtful. It was only six in the afternoon, but he couldn't concentrate. All his thoughts were always going back to Damon and his incomprehensible behavior. And the hunter didn't know what to do with that.

Days went by.

He made some happy memories with Jenna. Sometimes, Elena and Jeremy would join. At these times, Alaric Saltzman felt as if he had two kids that had nearly become adults without him knowing it. He had almost forgotten how much he had wanted children before Isobel had said she didn't want any.

Ric had complied, back then.

He didn't love her anymore, that was a thing he was certain of, but it still hurt when he thought of every concession he had made for her, because he loved her, and how he was repaid for every single thing he had given up for her. She hadn't even be able to overcome her obsession to be a vampire for him.

Truth to be told, if she had asked him to turn with her, he might have considered it. What wouldn't he have done for her! And to be with Isobel for all eternity would have been quite a convincing point, regardless of all other considerations.

But she hadn't.

Speaking of vampires, Alaric had the feeling Damon was avoiding him.

One day he had met him at the Grill, and his friend had barely finished his glass of bourbon that he was gone.

That wasn't exactly helping him to understand what was going on.

But at least, the vampire wasn't poking around his past anymore.

The thing was that Damon had his head full of too many things to concentrate on only one, such as the secret Ric seemed to be keeping. What's more, he wouldn't even want to talk about what was the problem between him and the history teacher.

Because it was obvious to anybody that knew them a little, that something was off.

They weren't drinking together anymore, and the bored customers of the Mystic Grill were trying to figure out if it had anything to do with the almost-fight from before. Almost-fight, because for it to have been an actual fight, the thug should have been able to at least do something. But no, the man had been utterly overpowered. By the high school history teacher.

The awesomeness of Alaric was being pointed out too often, and so Damon had begun to avoid the Grill too.

Rose had tried to get him to talk when he was already half drunk, but he had only grunted and left the boarding house.

But one day came the awesome news.

A new werewolf in Mystic Falls. Finally, the vampire would be able to take his anger out on something else than a wolf skin rug. Saint Stefan would object, naturally, but hell, Damon needed to let off some steam, and a werewolf was already better than a guiltless human. At least, he knew this one was a killer like him.

To trigger the curse, the woman had to have killed a human being.

So she was a killer. And a good enough torture subject. And currently drinking at the Grill, alone.

She had that strange name, Jules. For someone from this century, it wasn't so strange, but for Damon, who had been around for a few more decades than the majority of the world's population, it was. He had gone to Europe in the early twentieth century. He knew France. And Jules was definitely a man's name. No french girl would have ever thought of nicknaming herself Jules. But well, that was the thing with the United States: people were from just anywhere, so names had undergone tremendous changes. That wasn't so bad.

Where else could you meet someone with such a regal name as Alaric? Here and there, certainly, but well, they weren't many of them. Ruler of all, for God's sake. That was badass.

But that was not the point.

Right, right, he wouldn't torture her if he didn't have to. Really, Ric, he swore.

But Ric wasn't here. In fact, Damon had been the one to reject him.

Damon wouldn't think about Alaric.

So, to clear his head of his mental image of the hunter that had been pounding at the door of his mind for days, the vampire went and tried to pour some wolfsbane into her drink.

He then learned that werewolves really had a wondrous sense of smell, and that he had forgotten something very important when dealing with werewolves. Don't piss them off during a fullmoon.

And unfortunately, it was the fullmoon.

Things went out of hand. Pretty badly.

And Rose was dying, bitten.

Bonnie came to the boarding house with a pocket mirror. Damon didn't get what she was doing, why she was doing it, or how she was doing it, but she confined Rose-Marie in the mirror. She told him that in there she wouldn't be hurt anymore, because it only captured the essense of the person. But she also told him she had no idea how to get her out. She had imagined the spell to trap Klaus, but it wasn't even powerful enough to do that, so she had thought she might as well use it to save the life of a vampire that wasn't so bad. She glanced at him while saying that, but he didn't care.

Rose had almost died, and she was trapped in a mirror for what could as well be all eternity, because of him. Because he was so interested in his own problems he hadn't been careful about anything. Because Alaric was driving him mad. He had to end it.


	13. ATOR, part 13: You love him

_Set in 2x14._  
 _I'm beginning to mess with the show timeline, but... it's a fic, right?_

* * *

 _This month is likely to be one of the worst of my life. This is one of the only happyness inducing activities I manage to do without receiving a reminder of how much I'm useless. So you better enjoy it._  
 _And yes, I believe in the frienship between Damon and Andie._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 13: You love him**

So.

The plan.

Yeah, right, because that was one hell of a plan. Act like a jackass. So that Ric would hate him. As if he wasn't a jackass to begin with. And as if Alaric hating him would change anything about how he felt like shit when he encountered the man that was supposed to be his best friend.

Truth to be told, Damon knew he was doing pointless shit. But he really didn't know what else to do. At least, now, their encounters were a lot less frequent, because, since he was being a jerk, Ric didn't want to talk to him.

It helped a little.

It should have helped a lot.

But it didn't.

Last time he had seen Ric wasn't so long ago. Something like hours. But at the time, he had a pencil stuck in his throat and was kind of busy not to leave blood all over the Lockwood house. He wasn't really paying his friend attention. Well, besides the fact that he was trying really hard not to steal some of Alaric's delicious blood. Besides the fact that he was trying really hard not to apologize for every thing he had done and word he had said lately. Besides the fact that he was trying really hard to keep the jerk act up.

What was true about it was that now that he saw his best friend only once or twice a week, he was being grumpy. Damon Salvatore. Grumpy.

If that wasn't hilarious.

Fingers tapping on his spine caught his attention, and the vampire looked up at Andie that had came back from the bathroom.

"Your house is as amazing as ever."

"Wait until you try the hot tub before saying that."

The reporter glanced at him with squinted eyes.

"I can never tell when you're being sassy or just saying the truth."

"That's because I'm great at doing both at the same time."

The vampire rolled on his bed to get on his back, revealing his temptating hip bones.

"It's a shame you put on underpants."

"So sorry, but I can't only be your sex object. I have stuff to do too."

The woman raised her eyebrows. Apparently, he wasn't convincing enough.

"Funny, I thought I was your sexual object, not the other way around."

"Well, that's not exactly wrong, but you're the one who's already fully dressed."

"And you're the one who's sexually frustrated."

Was he?

He didn't feel like he was.

"Well, you're not the one that has sex with you, so maybe you can't tell, but I can for sure. The way you're holding me, everything you do is about someone else. And before you say anything, it's not your precious Elena. You're barely looking at her anymore."

Damon was uncertain whether or not Andie was right, but if she was, he had no idea who he could have been fantasizing about. And people usually know when they're having wet dreams and are subject to sexual frustration. So he was most likely not fantasizing about anyone.

Unless his subconscious was hiding it from him, because than was an unsuitable person for his mind. And then, he could still try and guess, he wouldn't find out who it was no matter how hard he tried. Great.

Why would he be having wet dreams about unsuitable persons?

And, before everything else, who exactly could be described as unsuitable? Someone ugly, maybe? There was no way it'd be someone ugly.

So he changed the subject of their conversations.

"Alaric resents me because I compelled you into going out with me, you know."

Well, said this way, it was indeed suspicious.

He had just brought it up because the thought had crossed his mind, but Andie took it very seriously. She sat on the bed next to him and talked while looking him in the eyes.

"Don't ever uncompel me, Damon. I want to be your friend, but I would freak out and we wouldn't be able to get past that."

She didn't say that he would most likely have to kill her so that she wouldn't run to Elizabeth Forbes and tell her how a horrible vampire had been using her as a sex object and occasionally as a blood bag, but Damon knew she knew. And she knew he knew. So there was no point in saying it.

At first, Andie had been nothing but a distraction and a blood donor. But now, the vampire couldn't say so anymore. She was kind, even if somewhat compelled, so it was a given but anyway. He felt she was totally someone he could talk to. Not only because she wouldn't go around spilling his secrets, but because she was genuine in her affection for him.

She was like some kind of friend. He was even sad that he couldn't uncompel her so that they would have a real, complete friendship.

Well, lately, people to whom he had opened his heart were all not talking to him, dead or in dire straits. Such as, Rose being trapped in a mirror.

And... that was all.

Damon had only three friends, and one of them was being trapped in a mirror.

His other friend was on his blocklist because that was better for everyone.

And his last friend was being compelled. By him. So not friendly-friend.

But he had it coming. When your main occupation for more than a century is pestering your little brother or avoiding him like the plague, you don't make many friends.

"Are you okay?"

He hadn't meant to ask it out loud.

Andie frowned, uncertain of what to say.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I don't know. But I stormed into your life and now I occasionally drink some of your blood without even asking if you're okay. So now, I'm asking."

The woman smiled and caressed his silky black hair.

"I'm the one who went after you, for the record. And yes, I am alright."

"You surely didn't expect me to be of the bloodsuckers' kind."

"I didn't even know it was for real."

"Nobody does, until they do. What I mean is that I'm still kind of using you, you know."

"I've known worst friends... Wait, what are we exactly? Friends with benefits?"

The two of them chuckled, thinking about how they totally hadn't expected it to become this way when it had happened the first time.

Andie wasn't aiming for friendship at all. She had thought he was hot, she needed company. She hoped that, maybe, it could grow into something more, but surely not into friendship.

Damon needed someone to forget his loneliness and his sadness with, just for a few hours. He certainly wasn't even thinking about seeing her again. Considering he'd let her go alive.

"You are not perfect, but you are kinder than they think you are. It's just that you are lost in a world that doesn't want of you. Your brother couldn't let go of you, when you both died, but your anger lead you to try and make his life as difficult as you could. Now, he's happy to know you're alive and all, but he's afraid of leaving room for you in his life. Others think you're only a monster, because you don't want them to see when you are hurt, which happens more frequently than even you think it does. All you need to do is open up to someone."

Damon snorted. Things were never so easy. And he had already used up his first impression with every person that mattered, most of the time in a bad way.

"Maybe I don't want friends."

"Everybody does. And what about your friend, Jenna's boyfriend?"

Yes, he had a friend. Never said he wanted one, though.

To speak the truth, he wanted friends. As much as anybody. But he wouldn' admit it out loud.

"Alaric?"

"He's a good guy, isn't he?"

The vampire thought about lying for a while, but he didn't feel like it. He was tired of finding excuses for his awful behavior. He was tired of blaming everything on the teacher.

It was his fault as well, even if he didn't understand why and how.

"Ric is way more than a good guy! He's awesome, terrifying, potentially dangerous as hell, but he stays calm when I snap and yell at me when I don't. He knows exactly when to talk and when not to and he doesn't care about what I want but he does care about what I need. He's funny but never morbid as any of my few vampire friends were. He's afraid of nothing in the damn world, but knows there are things that are way stronger than he is and that's exactly why he's so dangerous. He doesn't fear to inflict pain or death, even though he doesn't like to. He's not bothered by blood, corpses or body parts, which is freaking awesomely gross. And yet he has feelings, is capable of anger, joy, sadness, embarassment, as any man. He's perfectly human for such a cold-blooded fighter. Weak. Strong. Young like a kid. Old from to many injustices."

When he shut up, Damon felt there was something odd with the way he had been talking about his best friend. Faster and faster, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to finish what he had begun. As if somewhere in his brain, something was willing to stop him before he went too far, ready to go off the very moment he'd have crossed the Rubicon.

But the vampire didn't know which Rubicon was concerned.

Andie looked at him without saying a word for what seemed like an eternity. She had obviously heard it, the wavering in his voice. And she looked like she knew what it was due to.

When she talked, she said something pretty unbelievable.

"You love him."

Damon was so astonished he didn't even manage to come up with a snarky comment.

"What?! No!"

There was no way he was in love with Ric. Seriously, even the fact that he gave the hypothesis a second of attention was ridiculous. And the man was... well, a man.

"Damon, be honest with yourself for once. Your voice was shaking, you described every single thing you like about his personnality, you're being horrible to him because you don't know what to do with your feelings, and you're being atrocious to pretty much anyone else because you don't get to spend time with him anymore, and he's seriously hot."

Of course Alaric was hot. Damon didn't let just anyone in his vicinity. Ugly people were not allowed near him. It would have tarnished his brilliance.

What the hell was he mumbling about already?

"If you think he's hot, why don't you try dating him yourself?"

And why the hell was he being a jerk?

Bloody hell.

Because he was one.

That was his way of dealing with things he didn't want to be concerned about.

It had always been his way of dealing with things he didn't want to be concerned about.

Andie didn't react to his nastiness. She had surely expected it. Instead, she only put her jacket on. She had to go to work, unlike him. Just before she shut the door, she winked at him.

"He's Jenna's. I wouldn't even dare to think about it."

And so what? If she wasn't supposed to, why would he be?

"And I like bad boys better."

So she saw him as a bad boy. Well, that wasn't exactly a surprise. After all, he was one.

The vampire listened to her walking into the corridor, downstairs, then he heard the front door shutting. She was gone.

This woman was really messing with his head. Nearly as much as Ric did. But she did it on purpose, when the hunter didn't even have an idea of how much his friendship was affecting him.

Damon put clothes on, and then just stayed here, in his room.

Him, in love with Alaric Saltzman?

What a joke!

Sitting on his bed, he heard a loud knock on the front door.


	14. ATOR, part 14: Damon's undead heart

_I'm so sorry. I won't write anymore if you don't want me to ( go on dreaming about that )._  
 _But it was so tempting, I had to do it._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 14: Damon's undead heart**

Alaric was upset.

Lately, Damon had been avoiding him like the plague.

In fact, the vampire's plan was a bit more complicated than that, but in the end, the teacher could still see through it, so it was all the same. Damon was avoiding him. To be precise, he was acting the same way he had been before the hunter tried to kill him and ended up dead instead, so that Ric would be the one avoiding him.

Too bad, jackass, it wasn't working.

If he still couldn't figure out why his best friend wanted Ric to hate him, he knew that was all on purpose. And he knew that the vampire wasn't happy at all about it. And usually, that meant Damon didn't want him to be involved in something dangerous or stupid. Or something dangerously stupid. Or stupidly dangerous.

And, really, if that wasn't the case, then Ric had an idiot who rejected happiness as a best friend.

So when he knocked on the door of the Salvatore's, he was upset as hell.

The fact that when Damon opened the door, the vampire made a face, didn't help him to calm down at all.

"Yes, it's me. No, I won't go away, or fuck off, or anything that involves leaving you sulking alone in this house when you clearly don't want to talk to me."

And he fought his way inside.

"So, now what?"

The vampire had his sulking-face on, and reluctantly looked him in the eyes.

"Don't you so-now-what me, Damon. If there is one thing I know, besides the fact that my life is fucked up, it's that you do shit when you don't want to talk to people. And as I decided to give you another chance at being a good guy, I won't let you go down that road. And really, I don't want to stake you, seeing as your my only male friend in the whole city."

Alaric crossed his arms, and waited.

Damon squinted his eyes.

He couldn't say he had expected that.

Ric seemed to be really angry at him, but not at all about what he should have been. He had even called him a friend. So, apparently, his plan had turned to turd. That he should have expected. Because the plan was shit to begin with. Still, one can always dream.

Now, the problem was that he still had no idea about what to do.

And there was the fact that Andie had seriously messed him up with her ridiculous theory.

"Fine, we'll talk."

Or he could kill Ric and leave him somewhere in the woods so that he'd wake up definitely furious against him. Better check that the man still had his ring, though, with John Gilbert in town and all. But, really, why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

Because he still wanted to have a friend, and couldn't bring himself to do something so irredeemable.

Rectification.

He still wanted the teacher to be his friend more than anything in his life.

"But I'll go get us glasses and a bottle of bourbon."

Damon had no idea what he would tell Alaric. But he knew he would need a lot of alcohol to do it.

The teacher watched him go. At least the vampire had agreed to talk with him. Even if he didn't look eager to. That was something. That also meant something could be said. They could talk and get over it.

Alaric let his eyes wander around the entrance.

The house was enormous, he already knew that. The Salvatores were stinking rich, he already knew that too. And there was old and very interesting stuff all around the place, he also knew that already. Perfect place for an overly curious history teacher.

So he was only half surprised to find a nineteenth century sword in the umbrella holder.

Damon should really learn to tidy up a bit.

But the teacher heard the sound of the main door being opened, turned around, felt an sharp pain in his stomach and almost collapsed.

But the assailant didn't know who his victim was. What was the secret behind his family name. A single blow in the guts couldn't really take him down. Not so fast at least.

Alaric hoped that the one who attacked him wasn't human, or he'd be in deep shit.

Because he was definitely going to die.

And he didn't have time to think about it.

The hunter unsheathed the sword forthright. The blade made his way to the figure he couldn't distinguish, his vision blurred as hell. And it stuck in something.

The resistance was enough. He knew it was flesh.

The effort was difficult to make, but Alaric rose his head and squinted his eyes to try and see better.

It wasn't only flesh.

He had stabbed the man right in the neck, and blood was overflowing from the wound.

Ric felt a hand twisting his arm into letting go of the sword, but he wouldn't. Killing was really one of the things he did best, and for once, he wouldn't feel sorry about it. He had a bloody smile, pushed the weapon deeper into his killer's throat and died.

Damon saw the werewolf fall on the ground, but that was so not what he was concerned about that he only had eyes for the dead form on the floor, the one with light brown hair and blue eyes.

The vampire didn't notice the werewolf that came after him until it was too late, and next thing he knew he was tied to a chair in his living room. Well, tied was a soft word. Tied didn't usually imply wooden nails and stakes and whatever.

There were something like five werewolves in his living room. Not exactly the kind of guests he was used to. Six, with the dead one that had been laid on the couch with precaution. Or, he hoped this one was a werewolf too, so that Ric wouldn't be dead-dead.

Alaric really did a good job for a stabbed and dying man.

Apparently, Damon wasn't the only one to think that.

One of the uninvited guests was squatting in front of the dead history teacher, boiling with rage.

"He was abnormally strong for a human. Like, first-class product."

And yes, no human should have been able to hinder one of them. But the man, although dying at the time, had managed to stop them from pulling the blade out of their friend's neck before he died from blood loss. And that was so not to the werewolf's liking he suggested to cut the corpse into pieces to avenge the deceased.

That wasn't good news. Ric had a wonderful ring, or at least Damon hoped he still had it, but nothing could be certain with magic, and the vampire wouldn't have bet one buck that a dismembered Ric could be brought back to life.

He was almost glad when Jules, because it was her, the loathsome werewolf that had killed Rose, said that they weren't savages and even though they were beasts, that didn't give them the right to play with corpses, that it was disgusting and that Stevie should better not offer any other idea that fell into this category. But as she ended her speech by saying they had some vampiric torture to do, Damon wasn't going to say thanks. Being the only vampire in the house, as Stefan was as always flirting elsewhere with Elena, who was supposed to be the victim was kind of obvious to him.

And there she went asking him about things he didn't know the answer to, inquiring things he wouldn't ever answer to, threatening him to let Stevie torture him some more, finally letting the werewolf do his shit.

And still the vampire wouldn't talk.

Not that giving in wasn't tempting, but hell, he wasn't even thinking about the way the sadistic werewolf was pushing wooden nails into in flesh.

All he could see was Alaric's dead body on the carpet. The blood that had run down his mouth when his internal organs had been pierced. The lack of life in his eyes. How he had been discarded unceremoniously on the floor, just so that his corpse wouldn't be in the middle of the entrance.

All he couldn't see was whether or not his best friend still had the ring on his finger.

Fucking John Gilbert. If the hunter stayed dead because of him, Damon would rip his head off. Once all of the fucking assholes in the room would have been taken care of, obviously.

What was he going to do if Ric was definitely dead?

Distress, fear, hartred, rage.

Sadness, anxiety, despair, regret.

The pain he endured when Stevie staked him in the leg was nothing. Nothing compared to the terror that was seizing his heart at the thought that maybe Alaric Saltzman was gone for good. Nothing compared to the hollowness that would become of his heart if once again he was to be left behind.

Nothing.

The werewolf had no idea how much anger was ravaging the vampire's mind.

This much pain was nothing.

All he knew was that he didn't want to only have memories of Ric. He wanted time with the teacher, he wanted to see him alive and kicking. He wanted to witness every single second of the hunter's life. Alaric laughing. Alaric talking. Alaric smiling.

Holy shit.

Andie was right.

Damon was madly in love with his best friend.

It took him a while to process that someone else had entered the room.

Elijah mocked the werewolves, ripped some hearts out of their rightful owners, let Jules get away before freeing him. Elena's agreement with the Original had come in handy for once. Or twice?

It wasn't important. Damon rushed to the already cold corpse, and sighed in relief when he saw the familiar shape of the Gilbert ring on the teacher's finger.

The Original said something about how the vampire was abusing of his protection, but really, Damon wasn't sure he was listening to any of this.

"Well, if you're done here, you can go. I will just be waiting for Ric to wake up."

Elena apparently had told Elijah about the magic ring, because the Original didn't say a word. He also ignored the ungratefulness of the one he had saved, but that was mainly because he had heard distress in the young vampire's voice. Elijah wasn't sure what was going on, and didn't care, but he overlooked Damon's impertinence. The youngster was certainly not thinking straight at the time, and no matter what could be told about him, the Original was a merciful person. Up to some point.

So he left Damon and Alaric alone.

Or, more accurately, he left Damon alone with the hunter's stiff body.

Damon ran his fingers in Ric's hair. It was way softer than he had expected it to be.

How the hell he had ended up falling in love with this man was beyond him, but it was real.

Minutes passed by.

And the teacher wasn't coming back.

The first time Alaric had died, it took only a dozen of minutes for him to be alive again, according to Stefan. Now it had been nearly one hour.

Damon's undead heart was beating faster as time went by.

Why wasn't Ric waking up?

Fear clouded the vampire's mind.

He wasn't sure it was a good idea, actually, he was pretty sure it wasn't, but he did it nonetheless.

Damon bent over the corpse of the man he loved and looked him in the eyes.

Unfocused eyes.

The vampire's fingers were almost touching Alaric's skin, his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. They never really touched the body, the horribly-cold-as-death body, the tips of his fingers barely reaching the skin. Never even near enough to brush off the dust that had clung to the left side of Ric's face when one of the bastards had dragged him in the living room.

He would surely feel sorry for what he was about to do later on.

Damon leaned forward to softly kiss the hunter.

Tears fell on Alaric when he saw the lifeless eyes.

And the man rose from the dead.

Headbutt.

That was so not romantic.


	15. ATOR, part 15: The remaining tears

_I'm so tired... but here is your chapter._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 15: The remaining tears**

When Alaric woke up, he got up pretty violently.

Violently because the shock of being alive again lead him to search for air really fast, but also because by doing that his face encountered something hard.

He held his head with one hand and looked anxiously around him.

There was a bunch of dead people on the floor of the living room, nearly as many hearts laying around, and, more important, an all bloody Damon sitting beside him, a hand on his nose as he was swearing as a trooper.

"Goddamn it, Ric! You broke my nose!"

Well, sorry, next time he'd come back from the dead, the hunter would be more careful.

"It's not like you won't heal."

The vampire made a strange face, but it lasted only one second, so Ric wasn't sure of what he saw.

"You got blood on my clothes?"

That sounded almost like a plea from someone who absolutely needed something to be angry about. But as Damon was searching for an excuse that would be acceptable, it wasn't very convincing.

"About that, I think you're doing just fine on your own."

Alaric eyed the many corpses in the room, then the blood on Damon. Who, surprisingly enough, took offense at his implied contribution to the blood bath that was definitely going to stain the floor.

"I'm not the one who did this, Elijah did. As for me, I was chained to the chair right here!"

The teacher was going to ask about the torture device that layed on the back of the chair in question, but decided against it. Sometimes, you just don't want to know.

He then saw Damon's gaze going to the only corpse that still had his heart.

The werewolf Alaric had killed.

"I'm falling behind... I didn't even kill one of them."

"But you didn't die, so I guess it's a tie?"

Ric saw the vampire stiffen, and noticed brilliant spots in the corners of Damon's eyes.

"You cried?"

"Almost."

Damon showed his pant leg, jagged where the stake had been pushed in his flesh.

"The pain was too much. But what about you, how are you feeling? I mean, you just died, so is there any pain left?"

Alaric chose to ignore the fact that Damon wasn't telling him everything.

"I'm alright. The ring healed me. Maybe a little stiff, though."

And to prove it, he stood up and went to an armchair. Then he sat down.

"I'd gratefully accept a drink, you know."

The corpses lying around were obviously irrelevant. Not that he enjoyed drinking bourbon in the middle of a blood bath, but at the moment, he just didn't care. He needed a drink.

Hopefully, Damon had an amazing collection of overpriced wines and whiskeys.

The vampire looked one more time at the bodies. When he had said to Andie that Ric wasn't bothered about body parts at all, it wasn't a figure of speech. But still. At least, he could clean up the ripped out hearts. Hide them in a vase or something. Because that was really gross.

"Fine, but you're helping me burrying them."

"Deal."

Alaric closed his eyes and listened to his best friend leaving the room.

Damon stepped in the kitchen, in search for a good bottle of bourbon that wouldn't need him to go dowstairs, but soon he stopped his search and sat on a chair.

So that was it. He loved Ric, and once again his love was doomed not to be. That was a repeating pattern, wasn't it? Always, always, he fell in love with someone that loved someone else. The only difference was this time the one he loved wasn't in love with his brother, but with the aunt of a girl he had loved too. And, the one Damon loved was a man. That was new, and kind of freaking him out, but well, you don't choose who you love.

The vampire wiped away the remaining tears and went back to finding that damn bottle.

He wouldn't let Alaric find out about his feelings for him. If Damon could still have their friendship, it would still be better than nothing.

It didn't matter that at the mere thought of how he wouldn't ever get the love he needed, he felt as if someone was crushing his heart. A strong, big, amazing hand, crushing his heart as it was used to pushing stakes into vampires' chest.

The vampire found a bottle of alcohol, and returned in the living room.

The two of them drank, drank again, and went on drinking until the bottle came empty. Alaric then gave it a disappointed look, and tried to get on his feet.

"You're not leaving already, are you?"

"What? No! We didn't even bury the corpses... No, I was just thinking of robbing your wine cellar."

"That's one hell of an idea. Wait for me, I'm coming too."

Walking down the stairs to the basement proved to be a bit difficult for the newly alive Alaric. Stagerring a little, he leaned on the wall and sighed.

"Dying is not my thing..."

Damon looked at him with a shocked face that was obviously fake.

"I'm not sure dying is anybody's thing... and you manage pretty well for a twice dead guy."

Ric chuckled.

The vampire loved that sound. It was so comforting. As if everything was going to be alright. Because for one of them to laugh, even a little, that most of the time meant that no one had died, was dying, or going to die. That meant that the supernatural farce of the world was almost on hold. Vampires kept on drinking blood, of course, witches and warlock kept on being aware of the nature all around them, werewolves kept on being annoying, and all the usual bullshit, but no one was trying to murder anyone else for at least one peaceful hour.

And it was Ric's chukle. Not just anyone's.

The teacher's chuckle had always been more comforting than others'. Now he knew why.

When they finally arrived, Damon and Alaric scoured for the perfect bottle, and decided it was a pain in the ass to go back upstairs.

Ric took the red wine bottle his friend was handing to him and poured himself a glass of wine, as Damon had already done. There were glasses everywhere in the boarding house, even in the bathroom, and that told a lot about its occupants.

Drinking a lot and bad at tidying.

"It's funny to think how I wanted to kill you for Isobel's death and here we are, getting drunk together with a crime scene on the ground floor."

"Creepy would be a better word, no?"

They were sitting on the cell's bed, already light-headed.

And being dizzy was always simplifying everything when you wanted to speak the truth. Alaric wished to come clean, or at least divulge some of his secret to the vampire. He couldn't bear it anymore. He needed someone he could talk to when things became too much.

And talking about that to Jenna or one of the kids was a really, truly bad idea.

"You don't care, you're a vampire. Creepiness is your motto."

"But it isn't yours. You're human, remember?"

Ric snorted. He was losing track of what he wanted to say.

"Isobel isn't dead, she left me by faking her death, and I'm not even angry. I'm just... sad."

He had tried to build a regular, boring-but-perfectly-normal, life by marrying the woman he loved, but she had put an end to it. Now there he was, in a reality that was even worse than the one he was living in with his family's legacy.

Maybe he wasn't meant to be freed.

And, in a way, this reality, was still better than the one he had as a Saltzman. Here at least people had feelings, remorse and everything.

"Even our relationship was a set up. Maybe she loved me, I don't know, but when she first looked at me, it was out of pure curiosity."

It took a while for Damon to understand that something was going to be said. Something important.

The vampire grew a bit anxious. Of course, he didn't like to hear that Alaric wasn't happy, but there was more to it. Everybody knew about Isobel's obsession about vampires, and supernatural shit in general. What could have triggered her interest about her husband, he really wondered.

"What do you mean?"

Ric took a sip of bourbon, then closed his eyes.

"There has always been this saying about our family, that we were cursed to the bone. I used to think we only had some kind of mental problem running in the family, but now, I don't know anymore."

Because magic was real, what he didn't know back then.

Mason Lockwood's words, the hunter's strange endeavor, his cousin's visit, came back to Damon's mind. The fact that untriggered werewolves, even if they were still human beings, were affected by their condition with outbursts of anger. The fact that doppelgangers were human beings and yet supernatural beings. The fact that witches were able to do magic even though they were human beings. The fact that being human didn't prevent you from being affected by magic, in a nutshell.

Or curses, for what it mattered.

 _Family Curses and Cursed Families_ , an interesting book indeed.

"My whole family is composed of murderers."

Damon didn't say a word. He didn't want to interrupt the avowal, and really, what he was thinking right now was a little beyond words.

"Every one of us, every single person that was born in my father's family, has killed or will kill a human being at some point in his or her life. It can't be avoided, and that can't be coincidental."

Oh no that couldn't. But that explained a lot, too.

"Be it self-defense, accident or murder, we all went down that road at least once, and no one ever felt guilty about it. We're like immune to remorse when it comes to killing. Hesitation? What's that? A Saltzman simply kills and then it's done. It has been this way for generations."

Damon said nothing, but frowned. He was sure he had read something that sounded almost the same in the book he had stolen from the teacher. The name wasn't Saltzman, but it was the same curse.

And apparently, Isobel knew about it.

"Murder isn't a problem for me, and that is my problem."

The vampire wanted to say it was normal for the hunter not to like it, but coming from him, it might not have sounded very honest. After all, he was the guy who killed on a whim...

"Am I right to guess that you're also instinctively skilled with anything linked to fighting?"

"Exact. I learn combat skills, or, more likely, assassination skills, as easily as any naturally gifted individual in the discipline."

No wonder the man was so dangerous.

"What about the time you came after me? I killed you pretty easily, even if I'll admit I was surprised you fought back with so much strength."

Damon saw Ric wincing, and it seemed to him it wasn't only due to the memory of his first death.

"I had only killed one vampire back then. Wasn't aware of the way your strength increases with time. And, to be frank, I only recently went back to training. After my first kill in 1991, I stopped any sports activities to reduce the odds it would happen again. I was a little rusty."

The wine soon shut them up about any serious matter, and when the two friends returned in the living room, they fell asleep really fast.

When Stefan came home this night, he found his brother and his history teacher asleep on the sofa for one and in an armchair for the other. There were corpses that had obviously been forgotten there by the delivery guy, because, really, why would there be corpses in his living room if it wasn't the delivery guy who did it? Coagulated blood was all over the floor, and Damon's shirt, and Alaric's shirt. The icing on the cake: three or four ripped out hearts, the vampire didn't stop to count, on a plate, in the kitchen.

And the sleeping beauties were faintly smiling in their sleep.

A memo on the dining table: "We'll clean up tomorrow."

Stefan had had some problems with a werewolf during the evening, but that...

What the hell had they been doing during the afternoon?


	16. ATOR, part 16: From the last time you di

_Set in 2x15_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 16: From the last time you died...**

It had been hours since they met, but Elijah still couldn't figure out what was the deal with the local history teacher.

Truth to be told, they had already met once before, but at the time the man was very dead. So you couldn't say they were acquainted. Corpses usually don't talk or present themselves.

Alaric saw the Original looking at his ring with a glint of interest, as he had been doing frequently for the past hours. He couldn't blame him for that. After all, it was a pretty useful ring. But if the hunter had noticed how the vampire was discreetly observing him, it was because he himself had been doing the same. Not because discreetly wasn't so discreet.

Discreet Elijah was discreet, no question about that.

But observant Saltzman was better.

It's easier to kill someone when you're fully aware of your surroundings, so the Saltzmans were usually attentive people. At least that was a skill Ric wasn't angry to have inherited.

When Jenna took a break from speaking, because, really, there was a lot of things to say about Mystics Falls' history, and the teacher was even beginning to wonder if so much information wasn't due to the founders making up some of them to look better in the archives, Elijah and Ric remained alone for a dozen of minutes once again.

An awkward silence took over.

Silence was often awkward those days.

Waiting for Jenna to come back, Ric was looking straight ahead of him, saying nothing. He knew he wasn't in any danger, thanks to the deal Elena had made with the Original, but couldn't help being a little tense. Who wouldn't be, with a thousand years old vampire who could easily rip someone's heart out in a flash next to them?

But the immobility he was in got the better of him, and pain began running through his shoulder.

Alaric shouldn't have tried to deny he was in trouble with his body, but go and tell the doctor you're having side effects from the last time you died... It'll be the asylum for you, sir.

The hunter wasn't planning to go to a mental institution anytime soon. And even if he did, Landyn would never have permitted to see one of her people regarded as insane and locked away without having a say in the matter. You never know what can be said by a man drugged with sedatives, and she wouldn't want to see the family investigated afterwards.

He reached for the back of his left shoulder, wondering if pressing onto the sore part would be enough to silence the pain.

Apparently not.

"A problem, maybe?"

"Only a bit of pain after being dead for the second time. And since I doubt that's a common occurrence, I can't seem to find any useful data about how to deal with it."

Nothing else was said after that. The silence was thicker than before.

Jenna came back, refreshed and all, and the tour was resumed.

The three of them finally ate at the Grill, where they met with Damon and Andie.

Then came the obviously bad idea of a dinner, proposed by Damon, of course, which could only mean trouble. Ric stared at his friend threateningly, but the vampire was determined to avoid his eyes for unknown reasons. Finally, the dinner was agreed on, and each of them went their separate ways.

When he left the Mystic Grill, the Original thought about the way the man had been staring at the younger vampire, like he could have beheaded his friend without a hesitation if Damon had said something particularly inappropriate. There was something with this man's eyes, that almost gave him the chills. And he knew he had already felt something similar, centuries ago, but he couldn't remember when or where.

Those eyes, they were worse than those of a vampire that had shut off his humanity.

At least, the said vampire was still able to experience basic, harmless feelings. Harmless for him, of course. Pride, cruelty, satisfaction. That wasn't healthy, for sure, but it was better than nothing.

Nothing was what could be seen in Alaric Saltzman's eyes.

Or couldn't be seen, for what it mattered.

The teacher finally took his eyes off the vampire as he walked away, and gave Jenna his full attention again.

She was so beautiful and looked so happy he couldn't repress a smile, even if he knew he really had to give his shoulder a look before the evening. The pain wasn't much, but it was continuous.

"You're sure you don't want me to help?"

"No one should ever have to deal with my thesis besides myself. It's too much of a challenge to even read my handwriting, and I like when you look at me too much for you to loose your eyes trying."

Jenna smiled and gave him a light kiss before going.

So Alaric was left alone with Damon and the compelled Andie.

"How much should I worry about your plans for this evening?"

Damon put his naive look on, and the teacher guessed these plans were really, really bad news.

"It's nothing more than a dinner. You know, between friends."

"You always have something on your mind when you try to look innocent, which, by the way, is not working at all, just so you know. So, will you share with the class or should I begin by sticking a fork in your hand to see what happens?"

The vampire frowned.

Glanced at the fork dancing between the teacher's fingers.

That sounded really different now that he knew of his best friend being something of a natural born killer. Before, he probably sensed the hunter might have carried out his threats if only there were less people around, but he never really believed that he would. Now, things were different.

Which didn't mean that the vampire thought Alaric would just do it, of course. But he knew the teacher could have if he wanted to, and that was starting to freak him out slightly.

"Calm down, killer. I'm aware that everybody knows my innocent face is bullshit, for your information. And I'm only planning to kill the thousand years old gramps who just left with a stylish dagger and ancient ashes."

Alaric really wished he could do a facepalm with his free hand, but the pain had grown into something so disturbing he didn't wish to know what would happen to his left shoulder if he even tried to lift his arm.

Instead, he only sighed and said goodbye, promising to be there for the dinner.

"Maybe you should follow him."

Damon turned to face Andie.

"If it's about my feelings for him, I won't say a word."

The reporter looked kind of surprised with his answer, but chuckled before he could say anything else. Waiting for her to explain herself made Damon a little impatient.

"So you finally admitted it. Better than nothing. But I was talking about the fact that he's been keeping his left arm from moving too abruptely for hours. You said he died recently, maybe he's not as okay as he wants you to believe he is."

"Alaric wasn't doing anything with his arm. If you're trying to get me to talk to him alone, say it already."

Andie painted an insulted look on her face.

"I'm not, and he wasn't doing anything with his arm because the point of keeping your arm from moving is that it stays still. You were too busy being jealous when you saw him with Jenna that you didn't even notice he wasn't doing good."

Damon grunted. He wasn't jealous. Not at all. He was simply happy that Ric was happy with a decent woman. And a little sad that it wasn't with a decent man. Or more accurately, with a not-at-all-decent man. Or a not-at-all-decent vampire, to be exact. Hell, he was sad that it wasn't His Majesty who was going out with Alaric Saltzman, but seriously, he couldn't do anything about it.

And he'd have noticed if the hunter hadn't been doing well.

He would have noticed. Definitely.

The vampire looked Andie in the eyes.

"You're sure he wasn't doing good?"

Because he had been way too troubled by the kiss to notice anything, because he was jealous as hell, because Andie was right and he didn't want to admit it.

"Certain. Now, go, and stalk him if you have to."

Damon left the Grill, hoping Ric had gone back to his loft.

And the teacher had.

Alaric was bare chested in his bathroom when the vampire looked through the window.

That was some view to see, and Damon really resented the man right now for never having invited him inside. Because of that, the vampire was currently maintening his equilibrium on the windowsill, and hoping that no one would look up and see him. Not only he was acting like a stalker, but he was a stalker that was holding himself to the building's rain gutter.

Ric winced when the sleeve of his shirt finally left his arm.

His right hand explored the back of his shoulder, and then he felt it.

It was like some of the veins on his back were swollen.

It's only when his fingertips came into contact with the damaged part of his skin that he realized what exactly was swollen.

The hunter came closer to the mirror, and turned a bit so he could see the star-shaped scar.

He had no idea what it meant exactly, but it couldn't be good. Two of the eight points were red and bulging, and the veins that ran through the swollen skin were the ones that were bloated.

That was the kind of things that could almost convince him to go and ask Bonnie Bennett for her expertise. But she was far from being an expert, even if she was truly powerful. The young witch was lacking experience, and way too close to Elena and Jeremy.

If only Ric could get in touch with some other witch...

He stayed still for one or two more minutes, thinking, then the teacher went to get ready for the dinner.

He couldn't do anything about it for now.

And it could as well be nothing. After all, after his first death too his shoulder had hurt, even though not as much as this time. In the end, nothing had happened.

Alaric was still alive, and that was good enough for now.

But if Alaric felt this way, it wasn't Damon's case.

When the vampire had set eyes on the scar, he had remembered.

The name in the book was Falkenbach.

When the vampire had sighted the bulging veins coming from the scar, he had frowned.

That coudn't be good.

What the hell it was, he had no idea.

But it couldn't be good.

Damon raced up to the boarding house.

He passed by Stefan who was leaving, and obviously wasn't informed that there was a dinner in the evening in their very house, because he was too busy spending time with Elena, because he would have suspected something and could never help but say the truth to his girlfriend who would at some point have tried to prevent them from killing Elijah, and because Damon hadn't told him about it. Best way not to have a whiny and suicidal doppelganger in the way of the upcoming Original Murder Operation.

It took him almost ten seconds to find the book he had freed from Alaric's custody.

When Stefan was gone for good, Damon began cooking the dinner, reading the chapter about the Falkenbachs simultaneaously.

Miraculously, nothing burned or turned to ashes while he was frowning upon the book.

How the Falkenbachs had become the Saltzmans without anyone knowing about it remained a mystery, but people marry and women take their husband name's. Ric surely knew about that as well. As he had known since the beginning that the Petrovas chapter wasn't the only one that had caught his wife's interest.

Damon was a bit relieved. What the book said, considering it was accurate of course, added up to his best friend's story.

Ric had been honest the other day.

Still, they'll need to have a serious and long talk one of those days.


	17. ATOR, part 17: Merciless, relentless, re

_Set in 2x15 and 2x16_  
 _Consider that I'm going to separate 2x16 this way: the Martins' death is in this chapter, but the part where Jenna argues with Ric will be later, with one or two days in the middle._

* * *

 _Now I'm about to mess with the timeline for real. Feel free to warn me if I'm not precise enough about it. It doesn't mean that what I don't talk about didn't happen as in the show._  
 _I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter's writing... I'll try to read it again tomorrow, maybe I'll like it better._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 17: Merciless, relentless, remorseless**

When Alaric daggered the Original through the back of the chair, he wasn't thinking about it.

He was more worried about Jenna who was in the kitchen, and could come back any time soon. Worried about the way she was acting as if nothing was wrong, and yet it was obvious there was something. Worried that he would never be able to be honest with her, not only about the whole supernatural bullshit everyone was in except her, but also about what was wrong with him.

Let's be realistic. No one would want to share their life with a perfect assassin, aside from Isobel, but she was kind of nuts too, and in the end, she had left him nonetheless.

The blade had made a hole in the chair.

Damon'd have to deal with it. After all, he was the one that had lured Elijah in a murderous trap. And as dangerous as being a Saltzman made him, the hunter was still human. Surprise would never have been enough to deal with the thousand years old vampire, and since Ric only had to bother with Jenna not seeing Elijah "Smith" getting murdered, he had the possiblity to be creative.

The Original went stone gray, with bulging veins under his skin.

Alaric withdraw the dagger from Elijah's back and from the chair, and cleaned it with a napkin.

When he looked up, John Gilbert, Andie Star and Damon were motionless, shocked and apparently a bit terrified. Not Damon, of course. The vampire was only motionless and shocked.

No time to stay still, they had a body to hide in the basement. Jenna wasn't done with the dessert yet, but she would be at some point, and that surely wasn't something she needed to see.

Damon closed the door of the basement cell behind him.

He actually had seen it, when Ric had daggered the Original.

The emptiness that the book was talking about. The emptiness he had witnessed many times already, but never while the hunter was killing someone in cold blood. The absence of everything that made a human being in Alaric's eyes. The stillness of his face. His way of moving, perfectly efficient and unhesitant.

The teacher was right. A Saltzman simply kills, and then it's done.

Damon wasn't the only one that was startled by what just happened.

Andie had recovered fast, still compelled, and had gone to the kitchen to keep Jenna busy.

John was the one that had been fun to observe. The vampire didn't know what the man had in mind, and that was certainly something someone would be sorry for in the near futur, but his face... A man swallowing, shock, panic and triumph painted on his face at the same time was something you didn't get to see very often. He had looked like he had succeeded in making a point about Alaric, though. That wasn't good news, but... John Gilbert terrified by a fellow human being, that was something Damon would never forget.

As he would never forget how much it hurt when the hunter reminded him that he was his only friend. Only his friend was actually worst, but no way he'd say it out loud.

They went back upstairs.

The dinner finished strangely, Jenna wondering why exactly Elijah had left, and no one undeceiving her. Everybody left. Damon had to thanks Stefan for preventing him from dying tonight. He was almost deploring he hadn't told his brother he had been planning to kill the Original the very night the info on how the dagger would kill him if he went after Elijah was discovered.

No vampire could kill an Original with the dagger without dying himself. Thank you very much for the tips, Johnathan Gilbert, even if you didn't intend to help.

John Gilbert, on the other hand, would pay for this, one way or another.

Speaking of the Gilbert father / uncle / whatever, the man was so full of bad ideas he was provoking a disaster at the Gilbert's, between Alaric and Jenna.

And Alaric really didn't appreciate it.

Jenna was in her room, Elena was at the lake house with Stefan, Jeremy was nowhere to be seen, and the teacher was fed up with his life being wasted once again because of John. Last time was when the man had lead Isobel to a vampire, and then, no more wife.

John Gilbert, pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen, as if he hadn't heard about enough red fluid during the last hour.

The hunter caressed the Gilbert ring that had saved his life twice already. He took it off, and wished he could wipe out the conceited smile of the man's face.

"Your ring."

Elena's father, really?

Knowing that Isobel was her mother, and this man her father, Alaric might have stopped to believe in heredity. Yes, the teenager looked quite alike Isobel, but she was destined to be such a better person than her parents...

Ric grimaced.

Isobel too seemed to be someone decent, even if a bit strange, back then.

He was going to leave the ring to John, but didn't gave it.

Anger. Resentment. Rage.

He had a better idea.

John Gilbert would need the ring after what he had done to Damon.

Didn't mean it would protect the man from just anything, did it? Furthermore, if the man wasn't wearing it, whack, no more pain in the ass.

Alaric dropped the ring seven to eight inches above the glass of wine. John didn't react, dumbfouded when reddish liquid splaterred his shirt.

Ric seized him by the collar, and pinned him against the wall easily. The man didn't react, frightened, when his glass meet with the floor and shattered with a disturbing sound.

"I wonder... How much Isobel told you about me?"

The teacher was in no mood to be a good man. There is this much a man can withstand.

Alaric could deal with the supernatural. He could deal with his wife being an undead bitch, with his best friend being a vampire, with his step-daughter / whatever being an ingredient in an ancient ritual, but no one was allowed to add anything to the mixture.

John certainly wasn't allowed to blast his relationship with Jenna.

The teacher squeezed more fiercely the man's throat, then released him just so he could catch his breath and answer.

"How wonderful you were, and you can't imagine how much I envied you. But guess what? You weren't so special, after all. Faking her death! That's one way to show how little she truly cared for you! But, I don't know, you seem to be a pretty violent man... Maybe that's why she left?"

Mister was going to be a douchebag? Really? Not that great.

After all, Ric could do worse.

He didn't have to. As soon as he began reaffirming his grip, John let panic take over.

"Wait-wait-wait... She said nothing else, I promise!"

The hunter released John, and took a step back.

Gilbert-jackass lead his hands to his neck, breathless.

"You're crazy..."

Alaric let a pernicious, creepy smile invade his face.

"There is one more thing she didn't tell you about me, but she definitely knew, since she left me a clue in her office, at Duke."

He reached out for a kitchen knife that had caught John's eye.

"There isn't a soul in my father's family that has never taken a life."

Well, the kids hadn't, but they would one day, so, all the same.

"We're very gifted when it comes to killing, and, as much as I don't like it, I can assure you it's pretty useful sometimes. Ruthless vampires, conceited werewolves, problematic witches, it isn't simple to keep up with all that. Being merciless, relentless, remorseless helps a lot."

The hunter planted the knife in the wood of some kitchen furniture and walked away.

If that wasn't enough of a threat, he wouldn't know what to do next.

Well, for now, it was time to go and sleep.

The sleep wasn't exactly relaxing. Alaric spend half of his night tossing and turning, his shoulder aching like hell to the point where he was seriously considering amputation, with a knife if he had to, or even a chainsaw for what it mattered. But around two a.m., the pain slowly became less unbearable, and when he woke up in the morning, everything was alright.

He was sore, sure, but it didn't hurt anymore. And the swollen skin around his scar was only a bit red. Ric wouldn't complain about that.

The day went by slowly.

In the evening, he met with Damon, who was upset like hell. The arrival of Elena a little later explained it all.

It was the-vampiric-version-of-Elena-that-wasn't-Elena. In other words, Katherine.

How she got out of the Tomb, why she was helping, what were her intentions, no idea, but his best friend could certainly explain that later. Because things got a little out of hand when an angry warlock walked into the grill. Explosions, flashes, wounded people.

Nothing really out of the ordinary. Except that Damon was staring at him. Ric frowned.

"Do I have something on my face?"

The vampire chuckled.

"No you don't. But there are things we need to talk about."

And he handed the teacher the very book he had stolen from him.

Ric took it.

He should have known the day would come.

A bookmark had been placed between the pages. As the hunter expected, Falkenbachs chapter.

He sighed.

"Not her..."

Damon interrupted him, an angry look on his face.

"Don't you dare add not now to what you've been saying."

"I won't. But we need to get out of here first. I don't want anyone to hear what has nothing to do with them. It's all about me, my family, my problem. And you're the only one I'll tell, you got it?"

The vampire snorted. The children had enough problems on their own, for sure.

"Great. So, let's go somewhere else, because I'm fed up with people never choosing me over anyone."

What he meant by that was so obvious, the tone he used was so bitter, the way he looked at bystanders as if they were making fun of him, and heaven knows what happens when Damon is tense, that Alaric thought things were going to go wrong again if he didn't stop his friend from tearing into someone neck just because of one askance look. Frustation wasn't Damon's thing, for sure.

"Stop it already, Damon! You almost died yesterday. You should be angry at Katherine, not at your brother. The fact that she was confined in the Tomb is no excuse. The late ones can be blamed, the sick ones can be blamed, the punished ones can be blamed. The guilty ones must be blamed. You have every rights to feel murderous. You don't have to murder anyone, you can't murder anyone, you won't murder anyone. But you will be angry. You have to be angry, because that is what make you human."

"You realize I'm a vampire, don't you, Ric?"

There was so much sarcasm in his voice the teacher began to wonder if there wasn't something else bothering the vampire. He'd find out later.

"Every vampire is human, even if he isn't a human being anymore. Even your humanity switch is not enough to turn off your humanity. It only buries it deep in your heart. You solely refuse to listen to it, in a way that is way more efficient than any human trick. You still accept every negative feelings. No one can enjoy cruelty without humanity. Each monster that walks this Earth came from the darkest parts of the human heart."

"You seem to know a lot about that."

Alaric ignored him, and went on talking.

"You still have feelings, it's just that you don't care about them... until the day the door to your mind breaks from too much pounding."

But so much suffering could be seen ravaging his face that Damon knew what he had said was a mistake. The hunter was talking about vampires, and yet he wasn't.

"Ric..."

"Being truly inhumane can only be achieved by those that weren't really human to begin with."

Alaric was talking about himself. About his family. Those that knew no guilt in killing. Those that knew no feeling in killing. Not the least feeling. And many, many feelings about everything else.

Alaric stormed out of the Grill and Damon realized he had once again missed the opportunity for each of them to come clean, at least about some things. Damn.


	18. ATOR, part 18: Things I haven't told her

_And because I can't have Stupid and Fool open their heart soon enough, here come some more disturbances._  
 _Actually, I'm kidding. My original characters are no filler._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 18: Things I haven't told her**

Alaric was on his way to leave the school when he spotted Damon, standing next to the teacher's car. Ric didn't take one second to think about it and turned around.

Everything was falling apart.

Jenna said she was okay, but she wasn't a really good liar. He knew she was having doubts about their relationship, or, more accurately, about him being him and not someone else. And she wasn't exactly wrong. He wasn't telling her the whole truth. Of course, he couldn't tell her that her niece was being targeted by one of the first vampires ever to be used as a sacrifice. Neither could he say that he had no idea what he was going to wear the next day. None of his shirts were clean, actually waiting to be cleaned, or stained with blood.

As if he hadn't enough to deal with just being who he was.

So, he wasn't going to talk with Damon.

Not now.

It wasn't that he didn't want to forgive the vampire for what he had said. Ric wanted to.

But he couldn't. Each time the hunter had tried to talk to Damon again, he had walked away defore successfully saying a word. It didn't make him happy, yet he couldn't.

He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't forgive his best friend. It surely had something to do with him thinking that the vampire should have understood. How exactly, he couldn't say. But Alaric had this feeling that no one else in town could understand, if Damon couldn't.

He could as well go home.

Boston. Home. It wasn't funny at all. Boston was not supposed to feel like home anymore.

Alaric squinted his eyes. Maybe he'd better come to work with a blood-stained shirt tomorrow, if only he could trade what he had just seen with an illusion or a trick of his mind that'd come to him because he had been thinking of Boston in return.

Nope. No illusion. Shit. Gal had found him.

Or maybe he should have been glad. He kind of needed a friend, right now, that wasn't called Damon, and, if possible, wasn't involved in any of his normal and supernatural drama.

Gal was a young woman, a little younger than he was, with a first name that was even stranger than his, an old, very old, really old sounding given name. He had always called her Gal, as she had asked him to years before. She had shoulder length blond hair, beautiful chestnut eyes with impressive lashes, and she always had this kind, considerate, almost sad smile on her face.

And right now, she was parking her car while staring at him intensely.

How the hell she had found out about his whereabouts was an interesting question, but well. They hadn't seen each other in something like five years now, and she hadn't changed a bit. How she had managed to get some free time from New York was also an interesting question, but once again, none of his concern. The fact that she was wearing those amazing clothes, as always, was of his concern: now that she had rejoined him, his students were staring at them with awe in their eyes.

Alaric tried to say something, but couldn't. He really had to deal with the slap that reddened his left cheek first.

"That was for disappearing without a word. Now, we can talk."

Gal, nice and thoughtful? The teacher must have been out of his mind when he had thought she was.

And of course, the ruckus had called for Damon's attention, who hadn't noticed him up till now.

"Ric, who is this fine lady?"

The vampire chuckling wasn't what he needed to hear right now.

"This fine lady is Gal. I've known her since I was a child, so please, be polite, Damon."

"You know me, always the gentleman."

Alaric sneered at that, but didn't say anyhting.

Whatever. Miss and Mister were already staring at each other, almost checking each other out. Better off not interrupting them. The hunter thought he might as well sneak off while they were busy being rude. But by the time he made his mind, it was too late.

Damon grabbed the hunter's arm as he was taking a step away.

"Don't you dare to run away, Alaric. We have things to discuss. By the way, nice earrings you have here."

Alaric watched them without being able to understand what was going on. Gal had always had those earrings, as far as he could remember, tiny, blue, round earrings. In fact, they were kind of plain compared to her outfit. A sleeveless vertically striped black and gray suit this day, with a pork pie black hat. Priceless, from what he could deduce from the cutting.

Which fashion designer was it this time?

It didn't actually matter, but being a fashion photographer was obviously a well-paid job.

Alaric started wondering how he had ended up knowing only weirdos.

Meanwhile, Gal smirked. The man wanted to go there? She could do as much.

"Not as interesting as your ring. Is it hundred years old or what?"

"Around one hundred and seventy. Who are you again?"

Ric tried once more to sneak off. It didn't work this time either. Truth to be told, he felt like Damon was being more and more clingy as the conversation between the two designer clothing wearers was becoming heated. That was strange, and even becoming a bit awkward.

"My name is Galswinthe. Now, if you could let go of Ric, I'd like to spend some time with him. You know, catching up and all, between lifetime friends..."

"Well, you'll have to put up with me. I too have things I need to talk about with Ric. You know, important stuff and all, between best friends."

Were they arguing over him? Really?

"Now that's enough."

And without further ado, Alaric shook his arm to get the vampire to let go of him, and walked away.

Damon and Gal were speechless for over thirty seconds, then they looked angrily at each other and went their separate ways.

The vampire considered going home, but he needed a drink, and a lot of noise, so that he wouldn't be able to distinguish his own thoughts from the hubbub. The Grill was a better option.

There were so many things he needed to talk about with Alaric.

About the Klaus issue. About the Falkenbachs. About how he was sorry for what he had said.

About his feelings for the man.

No.

That, he wouldn't talk about.

Ever.

Still, he couldn't stop worrying about this woman, Gal, Alaric's friend, as the two of them had said. She was suspect. And not only because of the earrings. Blue earrings were surely pretty common. But she seemed to be so close with the hunter...

Damon grumbled, casting a last look at the dubious woman with the fancy outfit.

Classy, to tell the truth. Fucking rich people.

Oh, wait.

He was in no position to criticize.

Gal waited a little before heading for Ric's loft.

She was worried. The kid had really seemed drained, as if he had no life left in him. And that man... all over Alaric. Owning a blue ring that could as well be made of lapis lazuli. As if a Saltzman hadn't enough trouble on his own.

She had kept an eye on Ric for almost thirty years now. It hadn't always been simple. Watching over the whole Saltzman family wasn't what she would have called a safe task. But it was her family duty. And she was happy to do it. Moreover, she really cared for the kid. He wasn't like those freaks from the main house.

Keeping an eye on Theodoric wasn't something she enjoyed. Alaric, or Cassandre, on the other hand, were good kids, even if unlucky to have been born in this family. Yet, in a way, that reassured Gal, because it meant the Saltzmans weren't mere human scum. As the Falkenbachs hadn't been only murderous assholes.

Really, it meant a lot to her.

And she was definitely worried about this guy, that seemed to be the teacher's friend.

Maybe she had been right to have had Cassandre followed when she had heard the girl'd ask Ric.

Gal reached for her wedding ring, hanging loosely around her neck thanks to a strap, and breathed.

Then she knocked at the door.

Alaric opened the door, expecting Damon, and looked relieved to see it was only Gal.

"Come in."

He went to the kitchen part of the appartment, poured them some coffee.

"You seem tired, Ric."

"It's because I am. Things ain't exactly peaceful around Mystic Falls, and I'm having trouble with the girl I love. You know, because of things I haven't told her."

Gal watched him as he sat on the sofa.

The man was really astonishing. Blue eyes, almost blond hair, and a face... Strangely, she was a bit proud of him being such a handsome man. He looked a little like her husband had. As for men's secrets, she'd had liked to know the truth about Hans before it was too late. She couldn't blame the hunter's girlfriend for being pushy about it.

Well, maybe there wouldn't have been a later between her and Hans if she had known beforehand.

There are some truths no one would ever accept.

Some people chose not to acknowledge what wasn't to their liking. Others decided to shut people who are unlike them out of their life. And there were the ones that condamned any differences with death penalty.

Life wasn't always easy.

For Alaric, out of all people, it would never be a serene path.

"By the way, I went back to training."

The teacher saw Gal stiffen.

He knew she would react this way.

Gal was one of the rare persons who were still there for him after the whole story at the bank. She had always been here, and she was the one who had told him that maybe he should try to make his body less of a weapon by staying out of shape.

"Why would you do that?"

Alaric took a sip of coffee, thinking.

They hadn't seen each other for quite a long time. Maybe she didn't know about Isobel's disappearance. If she did, she'd surely have worked it out by now.

"My wife went missing. She's probably dead. I saw her with a man in our bedroom just before she disappeared. And there was blood on the sheets."

Isobel was't missing. She had faked her death. She wasn't probably dead. She was. And yet she wasn't. She was a vampire. The man wasn't a man. He was a vampire. He was his best friend. He was the guy from before. He had turned Isobel. And slept with her. And Ric had known for something like half a year already.

That he wasn't going to tell Gal.

How could he, even if he had wanted to?

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Is that why you came here, in the middle of nowhere?"

She seemed really concerned.

And she was. The hunter knew Gal was always geguine about everything, as long as it concerned feelings. He didn't always know why she would feel personally offended because of something that had been told to him, or why she cared so much about him. But do you inquire your friends' motivations? If you do, then you're certainly a lonely person.

Unless the friend is called Damon Salvatore, but that was a story for another time.

"I needed a change of pace."

That wasn't completely false. That wasn't completely true either.

And Gal knew it.

Alaric could see it in her eyes. He hadn't bothered lying with enough conviction about that. He didnt' need to. He didn't want to. If he wasn't willing to talk freely this day, he would be one day, and Gal knew it. She only had to wait. People like Ric weren't the best with honesty.

It wasn't an issue for either of them.


	19. ATOR, part 19: Deal with it, or walk awa

_Some explanations, finally..._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 19: Deal with it, or walk away**

Early in the morning, Damon decided that hell, he was going to have this talk with Alaric despite any form of disturbances that would try to prevent him from doing so. Be it a blond woman with blue earrings, or a young doppelganger desperate to sacrifice herself to save everybody in the damn world, the vampire wouldn't listen.

And that's how he ended up on Alaric's doorstep at five a.m..

Maybe it was not his smartest move.

It was definitely not his smartest move, and the look the hunter gave him when he opened the door was filled with resentment.

"Maybe you forgot that, Damon, but human beings need to sleep if they want to stay alive."

"I'm not going to leave until we have that discussion. Besides, you're already awake, so why not take the opportunity?"

"Wrong, I'm still sleeping. Can't you see how I don't look at you right now? It's because you're only a part of my dream that has decided to harass me during my well-earned rest. So fuck off and let me get some deserved sleep."

The idea of being a part of Ric's dream almost overwhelmed the vampire's brain, but he would not let the man's not-exactly-trick-since-the-hunter-didn't-know-how-much-it-affected-him-but-yet deceives him. The two of them had played around for too long now.

"Alaric, we need to talk, and I'd rather do it before your lifetime adorable blondie friend takes you away once more."

Damon repressed the urge to just kiss the teacher in order to make him understand it wasn't a dream, because he was pretty sure that Alaric would right away deduce it was actually a nightmare if he did. Damn, he wanted those lips on his owns so much... that he wasn't thinking straight anymore.

Damon really needed to pull himself together, before he do something stupid. Such as, blowing up the only friendship he had had in decades by foolishly falling in love with his friend. Oops, that was already the case. Then, letting the said friend know about his feelings for him on a whim. Because there was no way Ric would love him back.

"You really don't like her, do you?"

"She's dubious as hell, and if you can't see it, that only makes her even more of a suspect."

"Suspect of what?"

"See, I told you."

Alaric refrained himself from saying that Damon wasn't making sense.

"I put some clothes on and I'm all yours."

Damon gulped. That had sounded so ambiguous in so many ways he simply didn't want to think about it. Strange, how everything seems full of allusions, when you're with the one you secretly love, before sunrise.

"Yeah, you do that."

He saw Alaric frown as his voice was shaking, but the man said nothing and pushed the door closed.

The vampire leaned against the corridor wall.

His heart was beating so fast, he hadn't experienced that for ages. Maybe he had never really felt this way before. Katherine had been compelling, ironic as it could seem, but she had given him what he wanted pretty quickly. In his heart, Elena had been all about jealousy and frustration. Ric...

Alaric was different.

Sure, there was jealousy, frustation about him being with Jenna. Sure, Damon could feel how much he yearned for his body, as he had for the doppelganger bitch's, or, maybe, not exactly in the same way, obviously, but entrancing still.

But it was mostly despair that was driving the vampire mad. Just being in the same piece was enough to make him feel safe, and torn apart at the same time. With Ric, he wasn't playful as he had been with Elena, or even with any of the women he flirted with continuously. He couldn't. Because the teacher wasn't a woman. Because their thing, whatever it was for Alaric, had begun in a very particular way, one of them trying to kill the other, and being killed by the said other. Because the truth was that sometimes Damon was a coward. Because he wouldn't be able to endure another broken heart.

Because making a move would shatter their fragile friendship forever.

Alaric's face.

Handsome, handsome face. Wonderful eyes. And that smile!

Breathing heavily, Damon felt that something down there was reacting to his thoughts with a little too much enthusiasm. It was definitely not the right time to be horny. Not the right place, either, and as he hadn't been invited in, and well, even if he had been, that would be very dubious, he couldn't use Ric's bathroom...

Bad strategy. Shouldn't be thinking about the very man that had made him like this.

Breathe.

No thoughts about anything dirty, no thoughts about how lewd he wanted Alaric to be with him, no thoughts about any word linked in some way to fucking. Please. He couldn't destroy what they had because of the shitty vampiric libido.

Breathe.

Ric couldn't see him in this state.

The always in control Damon Salvatore, the obnoxious vampire who slept with whoever he wanted as long as he hadn't any feeling for them, the abhorrent jackass with no sentimental attachment, couldn't be believed to be sexually frustrated about anyone.

And certainly not in a corridor of Alaric Saltzman's building.

Inhibiting his urge to fuck his best friend, unless he wanted to be the one that would be fucked, he really had no idea about that, wasn't going to make him feel confortable. What he was certain about, was that it was the only way.

Damon straightened. Trying to look as normal as possible.

Breathe.

Alaric opened his door, a cardboard box under his right arm, and saw a fidgeting vampire.

"You need to calm down, man. The world won't end because you have ten more minutes to wait before knowing the whole truth. Or, rather, what I know about it, which isn't much."

Damon smiled. He had to be patient, he knew that. Not about that, though. And what he was waiting for would never happen. He knew this too.

"So what, we're going somewhere?"

It hurt a little that Ric still wouldn't let him in. But the hunter surely hadn't even thought about the possibility. He wasn't doing it on purpose.

"Just outside. I don't want to think about what I'm going to discuss with you in my apartment. It'd feel like I'm staining it with my sins, and I'm not sure I could still sleep in my bed after that."

Ric said nothing about the fact that he kept the carton box of shame under the very same bed. That wasn't exactly something Damon needed to know.

When the hunter tried to lock his door without letting go of his cardboard box, he lost his balance.

Damon rushed to get a hold of the escaping box, but ended up catching Ric instead.

"Don't try to postpone this conversation by tripping over and breaking some of your bones."

"I'm not trying to destroy my body, if that's what you're insinuating."

The vampire smirked, or at least tried to. If only touching wasn't a very effective stimulant, he could have behaved as usual, a snarky comment here, some more teasing there. But no, feeling Alaric's musculature through the man's shirt, having his left hand in the teacher's back, under his jacket, so that Ric wouldn't fall on the ground, was too much.

Breathe.

"I'm okay now. Thanks, Damon, really, but don't you think you could let me stand up again?"

Yup, he should totally do that, because that was becoming awkward. And not only the situation. There was still this bad, mean thing down there, that was reacting in a way it definitely shouldn't.

Damon helped his best friend to get back on his feet and took a step back.

"Sorry, Ric. Better now?"

"Once again, thanks. I guess I'm more ill-at-ease than I thought I was..."

Damon snorted. The teacher wasn't the only one to be ill-at-ease, but he wasn't going to tell him about it, of course. Nothing could be more embarassing than having to explain to your secret love / best male friend that you're having a boner because of them, right?

The arrival of Vanessa Monroe, if quite surprising, was the perfect turn-off.

They had merely made it to the stairs when the young woman stormed in the building, and, a sheaf of papers in hand, glared at them.

The hell she was doing at five and thirty in Mystic Falls was enough of a mystery in and of itself, but the history teacher had gotten used to seeing people popping out into his life lately.

"Don't say a word. I'll talk to you too."

She seemed outraged, but stayed silent.

Alaric looked for a public bench. So early in the day, he didn't really had to worry about who might hear what he was going to say. No one was to be seen, the three of them put aside.

"Sit down, and talk. Damon, you begin."

If anyone could have seen them, they'd be amazed by the natural authority given off by the hunter. He was so cold, strict, indifferent, with his neutral face on, that even the vampire didn't thought of protesting. And, well, Damon wanted to know everything about Ric so badly he didn't really care.

"The Falkenbach Curse is strangely similar to your family's. Care to explain?"

"Easy one. The Saltzmans are the Falkenbachs. When one of their girls disappeared back in the eighteenth century, her death was reported three month later, but it was a mistaken identity. Next."

"I've seen your scar. Is that ritual a real thing?"

Alaric frowned, wondering when exactly his friend might have spotted it. Then he remembered their trip to Duke, and the toilet booth. He had thought Damon was craving for blood way to much to notice anything, as the scar was on the back of his shoulder, but he had apparently been mistaken.

"No idea. But we all do it after our first kill, for various reasons. Most of us think it's only a symbolic act, but the last guy who decided it wasn't worth the pain, turned out to be a psychopath, no feelings at all, so we do it without asking questions. That was what had brought my cousin here: she needed someone's help to carve the symbol into her flesh. Any more questions?"

Damon thought about it for a short minute, then answered he hadn't anything else to say.

That wasn't the actual truth. He also wanted to ask why Ric's scar had tortured him for hours. But he didn't want anyone to know he was stalking the teacher, because that was gross.

Ric stared at him for some more time, almost scanning the vampire's behavior in search of a clue.

Then he turned around to face Vanessa, took her notes before she could prevent him from doing so.

Not only notes. Pics, too.

Isobel, once again.

"I guess you found this amongst my wife's stuff?"

It was a picture of him, bare chested as he was fixing their house's sink, and you could clearly see the scar, the damn scar, that designated him a member of the Falkenbach Family.

Or Saltzman Family, but it was ultimately the same thing.

And that was why Vanessa had come in a rush from Duke.

"You let me waste my time searching for things you already knew!"

Alaric sighed.

The girl was way too impulsive.

He opened the cardboard box, took some papers out of it, searched for the shirt he knew was in there, spotted with blood. Found it.

"Take a look."

The young woman gave the newspaper articles a disdainful look, and went back to staring at the teacher fiercely. Damon, on the other hand, squinted his eyes at the picture on the front page.

"This boy... it's you, Ric?"

Damn right. It was a teenager, half covered in blood, hiding his face from the reporters' cameras.

"I cut a man's throat open with a hunting knife. His head was still on his shoulders for one reason: the knife wasn't enough to break his spine. You think I like to introduce myself this way? As a guy who can kill a human being with no hesitation? I told you to stay away from all this and no, you wouldn't listen to me. So don't be unfair, Vanessa. You hadn't to research this book, you knew it and I told you so. Yet you decided you wanted to know more. Now you do. Deal with it, or walk away."


	20. ATOR, part 20: Because today is sunday

**_And that's all for tonight, folks! I'll try to post ten other chapters tomorrow._**

* * *

 _I'm so sorry, Ric. I worsened your life a little more. You won't mind, will you?_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 20: Because today is sunday**

Damon was kind of ashamed of himself for thinking that Ric was even sexier when he pictured the hunter covered in blood. Not that it wasn't the truth, blood really suited him. But now wasn't the time, everybody was serious as hell, so maybe the vampire should keep his fantasies down.

"Can I ask a question, Mr Saltzman?"

And there he was, ruining the mood. Damon really couldn't behave, could he?

Alaric raised an eyebrow, not even annoyed. When you are friends with Damon Salvatore, you learn to be tolerant pretty fast.

"How come you're here with us, moreover a high school teacher, if you killed a man before the eyes of dozens of people?"

"If you know how to read, you'll find the answer in this article."

"I'm illiterate."

As hell he was. But Alaric wasn't in the mood to feel offended. After all, he knew how to deal with his best friend's cheekiness. He had had a lot of practice.

"I'll play along, then. Hold-up in a bank, one of the perp threatened a child when the police arrived, and things were going bad for his accomplices, so he shot a man in the leg and turned his weapon to the kid's face. He had this knife in his other hand, I was on the floor, next to him, and I did what I thought was the best at the time. The other perpetrators had been knocked out, but we were too far away, the police wouldn't make it in time. I caught his leg, pulled him to the ground, he struggled, I snapped his wrist, he tried to shoot me, I had my hand on the knife. He shot the ground next to my head. I sliced his throat. End of story."

For the man it really had been end of story.

For the teenager, it had lead to a very particular outcome. He wasn't an adult to begin with, and his family wasn't to be taken lightly. He had saved a child's life, as it later appeared that the assaulter had a record which seemed to denote a certain tendency to extreme violence. It was clearly a case of self-defense, the bullet impact on the floor of the bank could attest to it.

No charges could be brought against him, but rumors couldn't be avoided. People were saying things behind his back, how odd it was that the boy in the pictures looked a bit like the student that hadn't come to school since the hold-up, why anyone was forbidden from seeing Ric. The police and the psychologist he had been sent to to make sure he was okay after what had happened were giving him the cold shoulder because he actually was okay. Sometimes, it's better to be traumatized.

Saying it out loud made Ric feel relieved. Complaining could be a great way to let off some steam.

"So you're kind of a human killing machine, if I got it right?"

That hurt. A lot. And it was true. It was so fucking true Damon could see the shame in Alaric's eyes.

But the way Vanessa said it wasn't harsh or anything. Actually, she was more like sparlkles in the eyes and repressed smile from ear to ear. She was way too enthusiastic for someone who just heard there were psychos out there who were pretty much born to kill.

As Isobel had been obsessed with people that ate humans.

Let's hope Vanessa wouldn't end up being a soulless bitch one of those days.

The only answer Ric gave her was throwing a shirt stained with dried blood, which was way too small for him, in her arms. It looked like someone had bleed all of their blood on it. And it was probably the case.

"You still have the clothes you wore back then?"

"If you read the book Isobel had in her drawer carefully, you'd know we have our rituals. Keeping what has been desecrated during our first kill is a custom most of us still follow, though I don't have the knife, since it's a piece of evidence."

Alaric guessed the young woman was just going to annoy him some more when she finally yawned.

Fatigue save the natural born killer.

"Sorry, I haven't sleep for hours. Maybe I should look for a motel or something."

And so she left them, alone, in a square, at dawn. Damon and the teacher exchanged a glance. This girl really was trouble.

Alaric rolled his eyes, and packed his stuff inside the cardboard box once again.

They went back to the loft, so that he could hid the box under his bed as usual. Damon was contemplating an early bourbon party, since his friend was wide awake thanks to him.

But they found Gal waiting for Ric at his doorstep, fully awake too.

The hunter checked his watch. Six in the morning.

She was wearing some high price clothing, very classy and all, still no sleeves, but a dress this time.

Gal glanced at the carton box. There was no way she wouldn't have recognized it. That, added to the suspicious ring wearing friend, and to the early hour, was dubious.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

Damon was the one who had spoken first, and already Ric could see where this was going. No way he was going to enjoy a peaceful morning, right? Well, maybe if he hadn't lived in Mystic Falls. But shit, he lived there, and you have no peaceful times in Mystic Falls. When no one was trying to murder half of the town, there still was someone whose life was in danger somewhere, and when no one was about to die, people used their free time to have sentimental drama scenes.

Why was Alaric out at such an early hour? Gal could have returned the question, but no, she wouldn't, because she was a polite person.

Instead, she looked at the teacher.

"Do you know why I came yesterday?"

"Because you had a vacation?"

"Because today is sunday, and you, Alaric, have no kids to teach history to. So I'm going to have my way with you, and you will comply, as you always do."

That sounded so ambiguous to Damon that the vampire stiffened and gulped.

Ric, on the other hand, let out a vivid "No!" and locked himself in his apartment.

Gal raised an eyebrow, amused. Trying to escape, once again. She'd have to play the friendship card to get her favorite kid to do what she wanted sooner than expected.

"Come on, Ric. You know I need to relax too. It's been five years, it's not like I'd asked you to do that every single day. The guys I work with in New York are great and all, but they're terrible at the same time, I won't do that, I'm a star, if it's no good it's because of you, not because of me, and so on and so forth..."

No answer.

Damon frowned, dumbfounded.

"What exactly do you want to do with him?"

Gal cocked her head slightly to the left. She had almost forgotten the man was here too.

"I'm a photographer, and mister-reluctant is awesome when I can get him to dress appropriately and posture. And when I say awesome, I mean it."

Damon could totally agree to that. He needed to see Alaric modeling now that the woman had evoked the idea. But he couldn't imagine him doing that...

"I'm kind of baffled by the idea of Ric posturing, to tell you the truth. He's always so discreet..."

Gal grinned. Of course, no one would think that the man was able to be so yummy just because she'd ask him to.

"Well, that's because you've never met Sexylaric."

And Damon blushed.

Damn.

Damon blushed.

Damn Damon blushed.

Damned damn Damon blushed because a woman had talked about his Alaric as "Sexylaric".

And Gal couldn't overlook that. Let's turn the tables. Right now.

"What exactly do you want with him?"

The vampire tensed, and, on guard, replied.

"I asked first."

The second his mouth shut, Damon saw Ric's friend move incredibly fast, faster than any human could, faster than any werewolf could, even faster than he could. Before he could do anything, a hand was strangling him to what would have been death if he had needed to breathe, and he was pinned against the wall.

Galswinthe had those black veins under her eyes, and sharp fangs revealed by a ferocious grin.

Damon coughed blood. He most likely had a misplaced bone somewhere around his stomach, according to the pain. The unexpected collision with the wall had done damage, and some of his internal organs had been pierced by a broken rib.

Gal was strong as hell. Stronger than Damon. Stronger than Lexi. Stronger than Katherine, even.

Damon went vampire-mode too, and the grip became even more fierce. He really couldn't do anything, so he reversed to his human face.

Gal loosened her grip a little.

"Blue earrings. I wasn't mistaken."

Damon's voice was weak.

"Blue ring. The Bennett Family goes way back."

So each of them had been right about the other: both of them were vampires, and both of them were interested in Ric. How, exactly, they had no idea, but for sure, they would find out.

Galswinthe wasn't going to let any vampire near her beloved kid.

"Let me ask again: what do you want with my descendant?"

Damon's eyes widened.

It wasn't so strange. Vampires were beings that had existed for centuries, and the woman was obviously pretty old. Many humans surely had one or two fanged ancestors, or at least fanged distant cousins in their family tree.

But most of the time, vampires cut ties with their family, and if not right away, they did it after one or two centuries. If the Salvatores brothers hadn't done so yet, it was only because of convenience. And, well, Damon had kind of severed the family tree latey, so this wasn't going to be of his concern anymore. Now that he thought about it, he felt bad for killing Zach.

A blow to his stomach forced him to reconsider his priorities.

As well as Gal's tone did.

"Seeing as he showed you that box, I guess you know he's cursed, and he knows you're not human, am I right?"

"I'm the one who... turned... his wife... when she asked me to. He tried... to kill me, ... stuff happened, and now we're... besties."

This time it was Gal who was astonished, so astonished she let him go.

Damon took a look at the woman's shoulders. No scar. Not a Falkenbach.

After a short respite, no more than one minute, she was back on track, and if she wasn't threatening him physically anymore, her tone wasn't exactly gentle.

"You compelled him?"

"Why would I do that!? And he has vervain on him all the time, anyway."

"Good. You're so clingy around him I was wondering if you weren't using him as your personal blood bank. If you had been, I should have taken measures, of course."

Damon wasn't going to ask what she meant when she had said measures. He had a very good idea, that wasn't to his liking at all.

"I'm not clingy."

And that sounded so false even he could hear it.

Damn it, he was being clingy.

How Alaric hadn't noticed anything yet was completely uncomprehensible.

Speaking of the hunter, Alaric opened his door again, finally resigned to accept to take part in Gal's modeling entertainment.

Gal and Damon were sitting on the floor of the corridor, with strange looks on their faces, and for once, the one who had been attacked was Damon, as the laceration in his t-shirt attested.

None of them reacted when Ric closed the door. None of them said a word when he opened it again.

It wasn't an hallucination.

Or it was a pretty persistent one.

"If what I see right now means what I think it means, we should go and plunder your wine cellar, Damon, because I feel I'll need a drink very soon."


	21. ATOR, part 21: The day had been silent

**_And ten other chapters, ten!_**

* * *

 _Did I just send Alaric to Nervousbreakdownland? Oops._  
 _Well, it's not like he will have time to dwell on it._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 21: The day had been silent**

"Right."

No. Nothing was right. Nothing was ever right in Alaric Saltzman's life. Everything was wrong. Always. If a single thing had ever been right, he woud have known.

Looking at Gal through his glass of bourbon, the teacher was seeing disrupted images of the one that was supposed to be his oldest friend ever. Pretty close to the reality, those images. Everything he knew about Gal was disrupted, now.

"You're a vampire."

Galswinthe looked away. As if it could erase the last events.

"Did you compel me not to notice you weren't ageing?"

She didn't say anything, but the twitch that won over the right corner of her mouth was enough of a give away. To be accurate, she had been compelling every generation of her family for something like seven or eight centuries.

"Ric..."

"What is it, Damon? I'm busy wondering how I might kill myself because my life makes no sense, so please don't interrupt me."

"She said she was your ancestor."

Alaric switched his stare to his best friend, not sure if he should take it seriously or not.

Damon was trying really hard not to fidget as the hunter's eyes were examining him under every angle. It was bad enough that he was feeling as if he had insulted his betrothed's family on their first meeting, which wasn't exactly true since Ric was definitely not his fiance, but wasn't exactly false either, since he had made a very bad first impression on a distant relative. No need to make things worse by letting his best friend discover he was head over heels for him.

Whatever Damon was trying to hide, it wasn't working very well. Sure, Alaric had no idea why the vampire's eyes were turning in all directions, as if to escape his owns. But it was so obvious there was something even Ric couldn't just not see it.

And Gal saw it too.

Slowly understanding what was going on with the younger vampire, she interrupted their eyeing minuet and took the blame for what she had done. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"My... family merged with the Falkenbach Family centuries ago. And I'm one of the rare vampires that chose to turn instead of dying because their children were too young to be left behind. When my only daughter died, I thought of walking into the sun, but I had grown fond of my grandchildren, and their children after them... Now I'm always keeping an eye on the kids."

Ric frowned, and didn't see how relieved Damon was when he broke their eye contact.

"Wait a second... You always keep your wedding ring with you... but you're saying you'd have left your daughter alone if you died. Where was he at the time?"

Damn. She really couldn't throw the kid off the trail, could she? Sometimes Gal wished the history nerd in Alaric wasn't so prompt to grasp the implications.

"We died that night. Hans and I. We chose to be undead rather than leaving our six years old Leona to die alone in the woods. But when she died of old age..."

Damon understood quickly what the silence meant. Switch. Alaric's great-great-great-whatever-grandfather was certainly dead by now, if his wife was still all by herself, seeing how much she seemed to love him, just from the sound of her voice. The humanity switch only worked for some decades. If he had come back to his senses, he would have been with Gal.

And he wasn't.

"So you're the family type, like Stefan."

Because Damon wasn't exactly the family type, right. In fact, he was more of the family murdering type. But his brother had had his heyday too, when he killed their father. Granted, it hadn't exactly been his fault. But yet.

Damon guessed he could have been a family loving guy, if only his father had been a family loving guy. Because the vampire was, always had been, would forever be the kind of guy who became who he was by following the lead. Giuseppe Salvatore had been an uncaring father. Katherine Pierce had been an inhumane lover. His friendships had gone from bad to worse to the worst. And now he was this jackass who didn't care much about his family, his brother put aside, and for humans generally.

Not exactly the dream lover, or even dream best friend, was he?

"Stefan?"

"My little brother, who forced me to turn, if you remember well, Ric. Saint Stefan ain't so perfect, just for the record."

"And he offered to help me kill you, too, but you were an asshole who killed people for the simple reason you were frustrated that your unloving girlfriend was trapped in a tomb since 1864, which wasn't true by the way. None of you is perfect, you know."

"Right, I'm a murderous bastard, and you're a remorseless killer. I guess we're two of a kind."

Gal couldn't help but be amused by what she was seeing.

Watching her favorite kid from this generation bickering with a young vampire was unexpectedly entertaining. She could totally see why the vampire...

"By the way, Ric said your name was Damon, right?"

The vampire stiffened and turned almost sheepishly towards Gal.

"Damon Salvatore, yes. Why?"

The older vampire had this crooked smile that made the two youngsters shiver.

Yes, she could totally see why Damon was so into his best friend, and she didn't think it was strange at all. She would nonetheless encourage whoever was with Ric at the time, because it was his choice, and she didn't really want the kid to be involved with vampires even more than he already was. But she wasn't going to blame someone for falling in love. Alaric was awesome, and Damon surely hadn't planned to fall in love with his best friend. Hell, it was most likely that he'd have chosen not to if he had had a say in the matter.

As long as the vampire wasn't doing anything bad, there was no reason for her to resent him.

"How old are you, Gal?"

Ric wasn't comfortable with calling her that anymore, but calling her by their family positions would be a bit long. He had no idea how many generations there had been since her time, but surely a lot. If the fact that they looked nothing alike wasn't a reliable deduction element, the fact that she was nowhere in his family tree, that was precise up to the sixteenth century, and that he knew by heart, was a good enough hint of her great age.

"I died in 1285."

Well.

That was old.

Once his glass of bourbon came to be empty, Alaric left, with a I-don't-care-anymore face on.

Gal thanked Damon for his hospitality, then left as well to go back to the room she had rented in the nearby motel. The look she gave the vampire before leaving left no room for doubt. She knew how he felt about her kid. And she also knew he wouldn't tell anything.

While on his way to his loft, Alaric made his mind. He was going to talk to Jenna. He couldn't tell her everything, he had promised Elena he wouldn't if she wasn't wishing him to do so, and himself, he wasn't really earger to include the young woman in any supernatural farce. But he'd tell her how much he cared for her. That no matter what happened, Isobel was well and truly dead.

He wouldn't add that he wasn't the one who had killed her. Though it was the truth, saying it would make him sound doubtful. Usually, you don't point out that you're not the one who killed your wife unless you want to be suspected.

He told her.

It didn't exactly go well. It didn't exactly go wrong.

Maybe Jenna would believe him, given a little time.

Alaric slept better than he had in days this night. He woke up refreshed. He went to work. Some idiot had wrote salacious things on the blackboard of his classroom, so the teacher cleaned it before the students came in. When Peter sat down, he looked very disappointed that the literary masterpiece wasn't on the board anymore. Alaric said nothing.

The night had been silent.

So would he be.

Sometimes you can just shut up, and if you do that, everything goes smoothly.

At noon, he saw a text on his phone, saying that Isobel was back in town, and had destroyed his last hope with Jenna. Alaric said nothing.

The morning had been silent.

So would he be.

When the classes ended, Elena came to him, completely panicked and even more angry at her mother. She didn't know what to do about her aunt, but she was kind of relieved that the young woman had left town to go and live on the campus. At least she wouldn't be there if things went ugly. Things always went ugly in Mystic Falls.

The hunter tried to calm her a bit, he told her that there was nothing they could do. Ultimately, it was as if he had said nothing.

The day had been silent.

So would he be.

Ric walked to his car.

Isobel.

He should have seen this one coming.

Isobel said things about compelling him, about loving him, about being sorry.

All of his right hand's joints creaked when he smashed her throat with his fist. Of course, it didn't do much, but her grip loosened for a second. Alaric didn't run away, nor he tried to fight back. He simply stood there, looking at her, with those horribly blank eyes.

Everything was collapsing. Once again.

Their love. His loves. She had blasted them all.

And yet Isobel dared to say she loved him?

Maybe she did. She surely did. But she was so broken inside she destroyed everything around her.

Including her husband. Including her daughter.

He could have killed her, in this unique second, when her neck was in such bad shape that blood had escaped from her mouth. He had what he needed. A stake in each of his sleeves. Who said being paranoid wasn't a good thing?

It would have been easy. Staking Isobel in the heart, once and for all. Get rid of her.

But he didn't.

Alaric only stood there, looking at the vampire that had been his wife, that had been a mother for some lonely hours only, that had been human, and, by becoming what she was now, was way worse than any of the vampires he had met so far, Katherine being the exception, but that surely ran in the family. Ric would make sure Elena would remain the compassionate girl she was, if only he were to stay alive long enough.

He had his poker face on, and yet tears were rolling down his face. Salty drop of water, hesitant to leave the shelter of his lashes, but too numerous to stay up there, leaving a trail of misery on his cheeks as they were falling along the curves of his face. Some of them broke the barrier of his lips, and he felt as if their bitterness was a reflection of his mind.

Everything he was was in these tears.

Alaric was nothing, he knew it now.

Because bitterness, anger, sadness, resentment were nothing.

Isobel looked her husband in the eyes.

He had never shown her how terrifying he could be, not even when she had come back into his life to destroy it one more time, some months ago. Because he loved her. Compelled or not was irrelevant. Even compulsion couldn't erase a feeling as strong as his love for her. It only locked it away from his consciousness.

Now, his love was stained with so much hatred he could finally look at her with this terrible look that was the privilege of the Falkenbachs.

The emptiness in his eyes, every other feelings escaping from his being as the tears were running down, taking away what made him human for a moment, made Isobel's heart froze with terror.

She looked away. Walked away. And the hunter felt a terrible pain. Lost consciousness.


	22. ATOR, part 22: It's Terror

_Beginning of 2x18_

* * *

 _And here comes the part where I'm all get-the-hell-out-of-Alaric-,-Klaus-,-but-that's-cool-'cause-Matt-Davis-is-awesome-even-as-Klaus..._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 22: It's Terror**

Alaric was asleep.

Was he?

Maybe he wasn't.

He didn't know.

But he wasn't conscious.

Not exactly.

It felt...

As if he was so tired..

That he could...

Only grasp...

A shadow of...

Reality.

Because, obviously, no one was going to explain to him that he was currently being possessed by an original vampire. Klaus hadn't asked for permission, why would he bother to explain that? And, well, it wasn't as if Alaric was in any state to understand anything.

Katherine, compelled, and, why the hell could the body scrounger still compel her when he wasn't even in a vampire's body, let alone an Original's body? watched him complain to his warlock puppet as he delayed the moment of her torture. If only Klaus could be a little less annoyingly himself, she would have enjoyed the sight. The boy he had hijacked was... gorgeous. But the idea of this body torturing her wasn't exactly lovely. And the idea of being tortured by Klaus, even if he wasn't in his own body, wasn't great at all.

"It's been years since I've been in a human body. Something like... the early Thirties? I don't even remember why I did that back then, but what I'm certain of, is that I feel vulnerable. I don't like it. Those humans have freakingly frightening frail bodies. I really, really don't like it."

Maddox looked like the stupid puppet he was, and that was angering Katherine. You had to be utterly stupid to obey to the Original out of your own free will. Not only he didn't care about what might happen to you, but he also was prompt to kill for one mistake. One single mistake.

Granted, being his enemy wasn't exactly a safe option too, she knew that all too well.

But licking his boots was too much.

"You could have done worse. This body is better than most."

Klaus and Katherine frowned at the same time. Sure, Alaric Saltzman wasn't a fatso and he had charm, but that was it, wasn't it?

"Better?! I don't know what's his problem, but I feel like my left shoulder is going to explode anytime. If I had known, I'd have found a guy without arthrosis."

Serves him right. If Katherine couldn't say a word, she could still think freely, and she certainly wasn't going to feel sorry for him. Klaus was an asshole, and hell, if he was going to jump into someone's body without asking if he could first, then he deserved to suffer a little. Or even a lot.

Maddox dared to sigh, the doppelganger was impressed. Idiot puppet had dared to sigh in front of his lord and master. Miracles were real. Well. Not real enough for her to be spared, but at least she could still be sarcastic about things. Sarcasm was fun, so it was cool.

"Not any human."

"What do you mean?"

"This Alaric Saltzman is as cursed as a human can be."

Well, that was unexpected. And Katherine was totally fond of anything that'd keep Klaus' attention away from her fate. For now, he wasn't thinking of how he was going to have her killed, and that was for the vampire's pleasure. Timeout, please. The suffering would come soon enough.

"Say that again?"

Klaus was massaging his shoulder as he could, and that looked like it hurt like hell. Oh, and, for the record, doubt was all over his face. Katherine was more interested in knowing him to be in pain.

Maddox examined Alaric Saltzman's body from head to toe with a disgusted look on his face.

"When witches or warlocks touch a vampire, they feel Death. For a werewolf, it's Bestiality. Another witch, Connexion. Untriggered werewolf, a fainter bestiality. This man... I've never felt such a thing. He's alive, but covered by Death."

"Which means?"

Hey, fool. The warlock said he had never felt anything like that. That meant he didn't know, dumbass. Gosh, it felt good insulting Klaus, even if it was only in her head.

Maddox tried to explain nonetheless, but he really wasn't eager to talk about it.

"When I come into physical contact with a vampire, I'm submerged by a freezing wave of Death. With this body... It's Terror. As if just by standing next to it, Death will come for me. I only noticed once I first touched his skin, when I brought him here, but... residual, I guess. At the time, it made me want to throw up out of fear. I can't tell you more, I just don't know what's up with this guy."

Klaus frowned. It wasn't exactly a problem, and he could ignore the pain. But it was strange...

As if he had already heard those words a long time ago.

"Well. It's not important. Bring me the trunk, will you?"

The doppelganger, still sitting on the shitty chair he had ordered her to sit on, saw the warlock relax. Maybe he really didn't like talking about this sensation that he had had.

Maddox went to the front door of the loft, and pulled an old trunk to the center of the room.

Katherine saw Klaus bend over it, searching for something.

The body scrounger looked for a couple of wooden rings that had been soaked with vervain a long time before. Just what he needed for the cute and obnoxious doppelganger.

There were all sorts of enchanted and special torture jewelry in this trunk, cursed necklaces, restraining wristbands, daylight rings, even concealing earrings if the Original remembered well.

When he spotted the two rings, Klaus had a crooked smile, and reached for them. His hand, or, more accurately, Alaric's, came into contact with a purple ring, most likely made with amethyst.

Klaus withdraw his hand as soon as the pain, very similar to that of an electric discharge, let him do so. The human heart he was borrowing went crazy for something like three seconds, speeding up, slowing down, as if it was trying to stop its own beating one way or another.

Katherine repressed a smile. Things were finally becoming interesting.

"Maddox."

The warlock looked at him, intrigued.

"Can I do something for you?"

"Grab this ring for me. I'd like to confirm something."

Maddox frowned, but obeyed. It was a silver ring with a square shaped amethyst embedded. The gemstone had been engraved with a eight-pointed star. He handed it to Klaus, but the original vampire wasn't going to try to touch it again. Once was enough, thank you very much.

Instead, he pondered for about one minute.

That dull pain in the teacher's shoulder, could it have been...?

"I might have an idea of who this Alaric is..."

And Klaus went to the bathroom.

Katherine snorted. In silence, of course. She didn't want to remind her sworn enemy she was right here, at his mercy, waiting for her punishment.

It wasn't fair. Building up the suspense like that, and leaving her to her ignorance. Now she was curious, and she wasn't going to know the bottom of it? Seriously?

Klaus got rid of the shirt the history teacher had been wearing when he had borrowed his body, and tried to see the back of his shoulder in the mirror of the bathroom.

There it was.

"You've got to be kidding me... Maddox, my phone. Now."

The bloody star-shaped scar. No wonder he was in pain. The rather simple magic seal, specially conceived for the members of the Falkenbach Family, and therefore usable only by those who had their blood, even if they weren't witches, was reacting to the use of magic on his vessel's body.

Violently, as always.

The doppelganger watched the warlock search for the phone with curiosity. Maybe she'd be able to hear what Klaus was going to say, if the Original wasn't going to let her see. Such a pity. Alaric Saltzman was good looking, and Katherine'd have enjoyed the view.

Back in the bathroom, Klaus grabbed the cellphone with what seemed to be anger, and a bit of incomprehension at the same time, but not exactly concern. Not for now, at least.

The phone rang for an awful lot of time, and just before it switched to the voice mailbox, a sleepy person picked up the phone.

 _"Who the fuck is... Klaus. Happy to hear your voice. Even if it's not yours. You know it's two in the morning here, don't you? Why don't you try calling back in... I don't know, sixteen years, maybe?"_

"Yes, I haven't called in years, I know. But I hope you still do what I ordered you to."

 _"You mean, taking care of the psycho you locked up in the Sixties? Sure, that's even my raison d'être."_

"If you're trying to tell me you fucked up, Barnett, you know what is awaiting you."

 _"Calm down, he's okay. Or, a bit desiccated, but you knew that already, didn't you? After all, you're the one who said no blood for the psycho. What do you want from me?"_

"Well, it's time to wake up the sleeping beauty."

The voice stayed silent a long time. Klaus could almost hear the gears of his brain fonctionning at top speed. When he finally talked, fear could be discerned through a faint trembling of his tone.

 _"You want me to wake him up?! There's no way I'm letting this guy loose ever again. Last time, you lost seven vampires and three warlocks to overcome him, and I'm not even taking into account the killing spree that had preceded. Even if he surely has let go of his madness by now, I'm not sure he'll be thrilled to hear about you. I don't have a death wish, thank you very much!"_

Klaus tried to refrain from making torture promises, but he was very close to.

"Only one glass of blood, Barnett. He won't be strong enough to behead you with only one glass after all this time. And if you don't do it, he won't kill you, but I will for sure. So do it. Now."

Oops. He had threatened Barnett. Well. It had been bound to happen, and it would happen again, so no need to worry. The vampire had always been a pain in the ass as soon as no one was there to monitor him directly. Sometimes Klaus had to remind him who he was.

The Original hung up the phone and went back to the main room to take care of Katherine.

He had a lot of things to ask about what exactly the other doppelganger had planned with her two-almost-boyfriends, about the teacher he was a little more than impersonating, and various other things, such as which kind of torture she liked most.

"And... you listened to this conversation, didn't you?"

It was so obvious he should have thought about it. But it didn't really matter, so he wouldn't be angry about that. He already had a lot of things to be angry about.

"I did. And this you-that-is-not-you has nice chest hair, by the way."

The doppelganger really couldn't refrain from being sarcastic, could she? As if anyone cared about the local history teacher's chest hair. But she just liked to be unpleasant.

"And he has a disgusting scar on his back, if you want to know, but that's none of your concern."

He was asking about the relationship between his host and the Gilbert Family, when his cellphone rang. It was about time.

"Barnett?"

The voice who answered him was certainly not the vampire's. It was a vampire's, all right, but it wasn't Barnett's. A hoarse voice, coming out of a throat that hadn't been hydrated for decades, the voice of a vampire that had been alternately something of a friend, something of a prisoner.

 _"Try again, dear."_

The vampire coughed, yearning for more blood.

 _"And don't worry about your slave, he's alive. Or... maybe not, I'm not sure. But you don't worry about people, so I guess it's alright... I needed to quench the thirst, you know... Right now, I'd take anything, even animal blood if I have to."_

Klaus clenched his teeth. Maybe he shouldn't have let him drink a drop of blood, after all. The vampire couldn't kill him, but he could make his life hell if he wanted to. He obviously wanted to.

 _"So, Klaus, what do you want from me?"_

"You told me your entire family had been wiped out during the Second World War. So why the hell the body I'm currently borrowing has your scar on it?"


	23. ATOR, part 23: The point of no return

_I can't believe I really wrote that..._  
 _Anyway, going from Klaus' good mood to Damon's misfortune in love was weird._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 23: The point of no return**

 _"I do not care how many days, weeks or months it'll take, but Klaus, I can assure you I'll find you. And I'll make you suffer for those years I spent without a drop of blood. Not only for the last forty-two years, but for the sixteen years from the time before, the seventy-three years before that, and I can go on and on. I have four centuries worth of resentment, out of seven centuries of existence, thanks to you. Maybe I can't kill you, but getting rid of me won't be easy either. Now that it's said, goodbye, dear. Enjoy your time, I'll figure out how the modern world work soon enough."_

Klaus woke up feeling uneasy.

The changes in the world had been big enough to buy him some time, but the vampire would find his track soon enough. Everything was going way too fast in the modern world.

It had always been the same story.

He would wake up, one way or another, almost make Klaus regret to have let him free, then calm down, go back to his friendlier personality, enjoy years of perfect friendship, think about his dead wife, go crazy once again, and the Original would put him to rest in a cell once again.

Klaus wasn't willing to kill the vampire. He was one of his rare friends. And well, it was more or less his fault if the vampire always ended up going ballistic. More like, one of his brothers' fault, but Klaus was the one who had daggered the culprit. So it was his fault.

Well, he had nothing to worry about. For now, at least. The full moon would come way before the vampire would even set foot in America. Once he'd had taken care of the formalities, three sacrifices and an annoying ritual, the Original would simply leave and the vampire would have to search for a long time before finding him. With a bit of luck, he'd have calmed down by then.

Anyway.

It was time for him to go teaching some students, meeting his new doppelganger, fooling people in making them believe he was who he seemed to be, that is, a high school history teacher.

...And he had almost forgot the obvious.

Pop quiz for Katherine, then her orders for the days. Simple stuff, such as being lovely, quiet, and stab herself in the leg repeatedly, so she'd had some fun while he'd be out. He'd have asked her to clean the loft too, but he didn't want to be too severe with her. See, he cared about people.

That's when he found the crossbows and everything else.

"Maintaining family traditions, as I can see. But given the supernatural population of Mystic Falls, this Falkenbach, since the family obviously hasn't died out, is not out killing humans, I guess."

That was a strange thing to say. Eitherway, the Falkenbach had always been killers, even though they were human. But, still, Klaus could feel the difference between this human and others he had possessed.

The whole hijacking thing had this flaw, that the borrower was bound to feel the strongest natural feelings of their host. Warmth, when the body heard the voice of a loved one. Disgust, for something that was hated from the bottom of the heart of the vessel. Panic, if something very dangerous came after them. Terror, among other things, when the host made them do things such as killing or torturing. Or, sometimes, excitement.

Guilt, at least. Some people loathed guilt, and anything that could make them feeling guilty. Others loved it so much, they'd do anything to feel it again. Those were mostly psychopaths or masochists.

Klaus didn't feel anything other than his own satisfaction watching Katherine tear open her leg again and again. Being a Falkenbach was surely a strange thing, if only being in a Falkenbach's body was this odd.

He should really leave. He had a class to teach in... well, if he didn't hurry, he was going to be late.

If he wasn't exactly in character, nobody seemed to notice.

Even he felt kind of sad for the teacher.

It wasn't nice that no one had understood there was something off with him.

Klaus wouldn't complain, though. It served his plans, so, all the better.

And, from what he had understood, the man had had difficulties keeping up with his life lately. Maybe his friends were only happy to see he was doing better.

As he entered the classroom, mumbling about the Sixties, Klaus looked around. That was supposedly Elena Gilbert's class.

A voice corrected him about the Watergate happening during the Seventies by calling him "Ric", and the Original froze for a second.

This time too, it was exactly the same voice. Not the same intonation, not at all, but the same voice.

Doppelganger spotted.

And Bennett witch spotted.

But no Salvatore in sight. Such a shame. It wasn't really important, but he'd have liked to see the younger brother in a high school classroom. Would have been ironic.

The Ripper of Monterey in a classroom.

Well, Elena Gilbert was obviously not Katherine, so the doppelganger thing was certainly true. As a matter of fact, she wasn't stabbing her own leg over and over again, and she wasn't locked in Alaric Saltzman's appartement, so she couldn't be Katherine.

Klaus almost didn't believe it.

He had found other doppelgangers during the millenium he had spent on this earth, but for some of them he had come too late, and the young girls with Katerina Petrova's face had become old and died by the time the rumor had catched up to him, and for others they had died trying to escape.

But Elena wasn't going to die anytime soon, he'd make sure of that.

Not before he'd have lifted the curse.

And there it was. Those bloody residual emotions.

Apparently, the history teacher cared about the young girl. A lot. As if she was his daughter. Such a shame he'd have to lose her once the ritual would be over.

Some people really had no luck in life.

Compelling one of his host's student to deliver a message to Elena was amusing, even though Klaus hadn't exactly liked to hear Dana mocking his first name. Klaus was a perfectly fine name. Why did the new generation had problems with ancient names? Klaus wasn't lame at all.

At least he wasn't the only one to be mocked. Alaric Saltzman too had troubles with his name. And Klaus was utterly surprised when his fist slammed violently against the wall, startling two idiots that were whispering about him. That was one hell of a ghost emotion for sure.

During the afternoon, Alaric received a message from the older Salvatore about a meeting anti-Klaus. That was hilarious.

Passing a threshold without being invited in was definitely one of the pleasure of the day.

Well, making fun of himself was certainly great too.

Here it was.

That was the reason why he kept on borrowing other persons' bodies once or twice a century, even though he felt so vulnerable when he wasn't in his own, virtually indestructible, original vampire's body. Being someone else, for a day, a week.

Damon watched Alaric leave the boarding house, thinking that something was wrong.

But maybe he was overthinking it. The hunter was a little too cheerful for someone who had just lost his wife, but it wasn't the first time. Nor the second, to tell the truth. Their encounter, months before, had been one more funeral for the woman that had hold his heart for some many years.

Isobel had been dead since a long time for Ric. Her suicide might have been nothing more than a relief for his best friend. A little sadness, maybe, but he had to stand strong, now more than ever.

After all, they were awaiting the visit of the biggest bad guy ever, weren't they?

No time for feelings.

Damon went back to his room. He had to change for the decade dance. He cared for Elena, after all. Not loving her romantically speaking didn't mean she was unimportant to him. Elena was his brother's girlfriend, and even something of a little sister, now. Damon certainly didn't want her to be killed because of some silly curse.

Wait, did Isobel's death made Ric single?

Or, more single than before?

No.

The vampire knew it couldn't be.

No matter what Jenna and Alaric were going through, the hunter loved Elena's aunt. Why would he ever love the psychotic vampire next door? No way, no way, no way.

Half naked, because he was changing clothes, and not for any other reason, with his shirt open and his shoes removed, Damon couldn't help thinking about that man he loved and he would never have.

Alaric Saltzman.

He had to be crazy to fell in love with this man.

He had to be crazy to be friend with this man, too.

But he was, and he couldn't help it.

As if his mind wasn't enough to make him acknowledge that, a part of his anatomy began to harden to remind him he had needs too.

The vampire winced. He really didn't have time for that right now.

But he hadn't had sex in days. Last time he had taken such a long break from it was at the beginning of the century. The twentieth century. Almost forgot how it felt, to be this needy.

Andie wasn't enough, now. They were still friends. But he simply couldn't do it.

Ashamed of himself, not because he was horny, but because once again he was losing himself over someone he would never have, Damon closed the door to his room and sank into his bed.

The vampire waited a moment.

Still as hard as before.

This time, he wouldn't get to do as if nothing had happened, as when he was waiting for Alaric the day before, in the corridor of the teacher's building.

His hand went to his pants, that he undid hesitatingly. Fear. Guilt. Despair.

He whispered, almost crying.

"I'm sorry, Ric. So sorry."

Damon didn't want to use Alaric to get off, but he needed to, this time. Things would never be the same after that, he knew it. But who was he kidding? Things were already way past the point of no return.

Damon closed his eyes.

Now, it was as if the hunter was right beside him. The vampire still remembered the night when he had felt Ric's breath along his neck. A chill tormented his spin.

A hand touched his cock, and even if he knew it was his, Damon chose to think it wasn't. If only Ric could have been the one to stroke him, the world would have been perfect.

But the world wasn't perfect, he knew it, and that wasn't Alaric's hand.

Imagine. He had to make it true, or he wouldn't ever be alright, not even for one single second.

The pain was to much.

In his heart, as well as on his body.

The vampire clenched his teeth. That wasn't what he needed. He needed so much more, but he just couldn't understand what, and that was driving him crazy.

Alaric.

Right beside him, naked, on this very bed. Please.

Smiling to him, with this smile, that could revive a dying star, the star splinters that were all that remained of Damon's broken heart. A spark, in the darkness of what was left of his capacity to love. The remaining light of decades of depravity.

Of course.

Ric was a man. What Damon needed from him wasn't what he needed from a woman.

While he stroked his prick with one hand, the other went searching for his ass. He had never done that before, but thinking about the hunter, it could only be right. If only those fingers weren't his, but Alaric's. There, with him, on an absurdly large bed.

Damon moaned in a hushed voice. Imagining it were Ric's hands that were making him feel so good, working him open and releasing his cock from the pain of a hard on that wouldn't go away any other way. The vampire gave himself up to an unbearable pleasure, just for one moment.

Then it was gone. The Alaric Saltzman from his dream disappeared, and Damon was alone in his room, with cum on his hand and shame written all over his face, as tears rolled down on the sheets.

He couldn't go on like that. He had to do something. Even if it would destroy everything.


	24. ATOR, part 24: Too much

_I will shamelessly confess that I wrote this chapter and the three that preceded while listening to the 10 hours version of "Diggy Diggy Hole" by Simon Lane on Youtube. Maybe I should try to listen to something sad if I want to write funny things?_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 24: Too much**

Klaus stepped into the party with little trust about the music. The Sixties had had their own kind of music, and as he had said before, it wasn't exactly his favorite time. At least, he could count on the Beatles and one or two other rock bands that hadn't completely sucked to make it kind of enjoyable.

And there still was his other source of amusement of the day, which included killing a witch, so it could have been worse.

Everything was going smoothly when the older Salvatore, Damon if he wasn't mistaken, came to him, and said he wasn't impressed with the little compulsion he had used so far. Something about it not being much for a frightening Original who should be trying to eat the doppelganger alive. Klaus might have said that the whole point of a sacrifice was that the person was alive until the moment she wasn't anymore. But it might have seemed strange coming from Alaric Saltzman, and frankly, if he couldn't simply ignore the young vampire's comment...

Well.

It took him a little time to notice that the older Salvatore wasn't exactly calm, as he couldn't hear heartbearts in this body. Maybe the sassy vampire was all talk and no action, finally. Because for now, Klaus had only heard words, nothing but words.

The fact that Ric wasn't saying much was getting on Damon's nerves, and not in the safe way.

The safe way would have been him getting angry or something like that. It wasn't what was usually considered Damon's safe way, but there, it really was.

Because the bad way, the one he was on at the time, was one that made him nervous.

Damon had come to a decision. He couldn't do as if everything was alright anymore.

For some time he had thought that he could overcome this, that he was better off doing as if Ric was only a friend to him, but he couldn't anymore. Even if their friendship drifted away after that, it was the only thing he could do.

The vampire took a deep breath.

"Alaric, we need to talk."

Rather, he needed to let things out, a perfectly fast monologue, and, maybe, a little more than that, and then running away before the man he loved could react.

Yes, he had decided at first he would face the consequences of his action, but really, between what suited him and reality, there was a world of difference.

He'd try to stay and listen to what the hunter would answer. He would try. Damon wasn't sure he could, but he would try.

"Talk, then."

"In private."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, wondering what it could be about. Curious, he followed the vampire.

Damon lead him in an empty classroom. The music from the party could scarcely be heard from there. The vampire closed the door, and sat on a desk, head between hands, for almost a minute.

Just when Klaus was about to ask what he wanted to tell him, the vampire blurred in front of him.

"What are you...?"

Klaus had no time to finish that sentence.

Talking about the unexpected, that was one hell of an unexpected thing.

Shit.

Damon was doing it in the wrong order once again.

He had decided he'd talk to Ric first. First. Not last. Not even second.

What he was doing right now was definitely the expression of complete insanity.

And yet there he was, his lips barely laid on Alaric's.

It wasn't much of a kiss. Only a slight contact. But it was so fulfilling, Damon wouldn't have known what to do if it had been more than that. He might have exploded, figuratively speaking.

And to think it was hardly a touch. Ric wasn't even responding to his attempt. If he had, what would have become of Damon? Only a corporeal thing, no feelings, nothing more than physical contact. He knew it, and yet the vampire was so hot inside he had this feeling someone was eagerly shoving hot coals in his stomach.

Then came the realization.

Alaric wasn't responding. At all.

Damon had thought it could go that way. In fact, he had been convinced it would go this way since hour one, when he had first thought about it, days ago. It had to go this way.

Not only because Ric didn't love him back, but for the sole reason that your best friend kissing you out of the blue, was enough to keep you speechless for half an hour.

Damon stepped back.

Apparently, he had succeeded in that at least.

The teacher was utterly speechless.

And the vampire wasn't able to look at him.

Instead, words poured out of his mouth like a toxic substance burning his throat.

"I love you."

The shortest sentence. The worst one first.

"I love you so much I'm losing my mind when you're around. I wasn't planning to tell you, but my heart is only this big. You, you're too much for it. It won't fit, if I don't let my nonsensical love for you out a little. My heart won't accept more pressure. You can break it if you want. You can welcome it if you want. Anything you want to do with my heart, I will let you do it. What comes next is up to you, Ric, but you can't ask me to erase this moment from our reality."

Doing as if nothing happened would never work. It wasn't only about Damon. It was also about Alaric. Neither of them could ignore what had happened.

"I don't want you to choose right now, but I need you to know that I love you. You told me to fall in love with someone completely different from Katherine or Elena. You surely weren't expecting it to be you. I don't actually believe you would choose me over Jenna, but I can't stay silent anymore. I guess I'm really a lost cause, am I not?"

There it was. He had said it.

Damon raised his head to finally look into the hunter's eyes. He already knew he could as well rip his own heart outside of his chest. The answer was obvious. But he had to look Alaric in the eyes.

What he saw wasn't what he had expected.

What he saw wasn't Alaric.

Shock? Checked. Disgust? Checked. Pity? Checked.

Pity.

Pity wasn't Alaric. Pity wasn't a feeling any considerate person would have displayed after such a confession. Alaric was a considerate person. Pity wasn't Alaric.

For a split second, the vampire couldn't understand.

Then he understood.

The how wasn't the matter. Facts were facts. This was Alaric's body, but it wasn't Alaric. And if...

The vampire's eyes widened. Too much. It was too much. This time, he wouldn't be able overcome this. Damon ran away. As planned. But not for the reasons he had expected.

Klaus stayed there, without moving, for quite a long time. That was weird. Being kissed by a man. While in another man's body. Bloody hell.

It really wasn't the time to do the shocked face. He had a witch to kill, before the older Salvatore went and told everybody Alaric Saltzman wasn't himself anymore.

As for Damon, he was throwing up in the school bathroom when it occurred to him that he might as well warn Stefan that the evil Original was hijacking the body of a man he had just kissed and confessed to. Of course, he wasn't going to tell his brother the last part. Only stating Klaus' presence in the teacher's body would do for now. And, even, forever.

The vampire throwed up once more thinking about how he had suffered for nothing, how he suffered even more now, how he was never going to try that again.

As he had told Ric, no, Klaus, his heart couldn't bear more than what it had already gone through.

When he spotted Elena and his brother, dancing happily, he thought he would vomit again. Why wasn't he allowed to be happy, when they were? Sure, they had a constant threat upon their pretty faces, but them, at least, had someone they loved and who loved them back.

Damon waited a second, trying to look better than he felt, and cleared a path between the dancing teenagers.

The happy couple's mood darkened when they understood something wasn't right.

Damon tried to play it cool, damonish as always, but his tone still betrayed him.

"Houston, we have a problem."

Stefan frowned, wondering what was wrong with his brother. Because Damon looked like he was about to fall apart. And that was habitually a bad, very bad omen.

"I know, and you know I do. His name is Klaus, for the record."

"No, his name should be Alaric and yet is not."

Saying the hunter's name after what had just happened almost made him cry. But Damon Salvatore wasn't a crying guy. He was a killing-anybody-anytime guy. That wasn't the best part of his personnality, but it was better than turning off the switch. Tried once, wasn't going to do that ever again if he could help it. Too much of a mess to clean up afterwards.

Damon snorted. He was doing it, wasn't he? Playing unaffected.

Elena waved a hand to Bonnie, who followed them when they left the gymnasium-turned-Sixties-party-dancefloor. As they were searching for the body scrounger, they rescued Jeremy from a bunch of compelled teenagers / morons-anyway, and the vampires were separated from the witch and the doppelganger.

Damon almost killed the kids. Stefan stopped him. The thought of Ric's anger if he did helped the older Salvatore to snap out of it.

Then came the whole stuff with Bonnie battling Klaus in Alaric's body, playing dead, and Klaus disappearing once again. With Alaric's body.

Once back to the boarding house, Damon went to his room with his heart hurting like hell.

Elena wasn't happy at all. Whatever. He had done what had to be done.

It wasn't the issue.

The issue was rather simple.

Damon had decided to confess with difficulty. He had felt as if his heart was bleeding in his chest as he had been confessing his feelings to the very man from who he wanted to hide them forever. And then, he had understood all the pain had been for nothing, because it wasn't even Alaric who had listened to him.

As if it wasn't enough, Alaric had been shattered by Bonnie's blasts.

Damon had seen and heard bones breacking, then being put back into place thanks to magic, he had felt the chills on his back each time Ric's body had been tossed against a wall, he had refrained himself from stepping in and stopping all this madness.

How could he only stand by and watch as the hunter was being torn apart by the young witch?

And yet he had.

Alaric. Used as a puppet, broken over and over again, banished from his own body.

How could they?

The teacher wasn't an object. He wasn't some plaything they could throw away when he wasn't useful anymore. He was one of the rare persons in the world that made him feel safe. He was so human, and yet so abnormal, with his freaking Falkenbach Curse, that he had accepted even Damon as a friend, when he had understood that the vampire was nothing else than lost.

Lost. Both of them were.

Misfits. Supernatural misfits in a world that didn't believe in the supernatural. At least, not the majority of the world. Human and Undead. Alaric was cursed, Damon was damaged. Ric was inhumane, the vampire was rejected.

Alaric Saltzman and Damon Salvatore.

Was Alaric still somewhere in his body? Or had Klaus destroyed everything when he had jumped in the man's body? With magic, you never know.

Maybe Damon could get him back. And, this time, he'd stick with the friendship thing. As he had planned to do to begin with. It was definitely the wisest thing to do. No matter what, the hunter wouldn't love him back. So, the vampire should try and appreciate what he had. If he still had it.

Damon looked at the bloody coat he had picked up after Klaus disappearance.

The vampire sighed, and went to bed. The blood was Alaric's, even if the mind hadn't been.

He fell asleep, holding onto the coat. Holding onto the only thing he had left from Ric.


	25. ATOR, part 25: Hateful, hateful smile

_At first I was writting this instead of studying. Now I'm doing it instead of sleeping._  
 _I really, really need to fix that._  
 _What I mean is, I might not update as much as before starting from today, up till wednesday at least. Sorry. But I too need to sleep._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 25: Hateful, hateful smile**

Pain.

Uncommensurable pain.

Klaus was categorical. No human beings should be allowed to suffer this much.

For a vampire, it wasn't the same. Pain could be terrible, even more with the things they had special weaknesses to. When it came to stakes, vervain or sunlight, for example. But they healed quickly. Things such as pain lasting over time weren't their reality.

But that, that wasn't something any human should ever suffer.

He had played around for too long in Alaric Saltzman's body, he had let it be broken into pieces over and over, because Maddox with backing him up and had been putting it all together again and again. But he had forgotten about the Falkenbach Seal. And now, he was being repentent about that.

He had forgotten, because once he had borrowed the body of the teacher, the pain had been less and less present. After all, the seal only reacted to magic. Once Klaus was here, he didn't need any magic to stay here.

Fool.

The seal of the first kill, that was what he had been told. Carved into the flesh of each of the children of the Falkenbachs in order to prevent them from losing all of their humanity. Restraining the terrible curse from pervading other parts of their brain, as it had, since their birth, been cancelling their hability to feel guilt over killing and torture.

Cancelling wasn't the word. Destroying was more like it.

No humanity. At all.

It was even worse than the vampire switch.

Long ago, when his friend had snapped for the second time, Klaus had asked for the help of some witches to regain what the curse had taken away from him. And then, they had understood.

Nothing could be done. There was nothing to turn on, nothing to reveal, nothing to uncover.

The Falkenbachs really had no humanity concerning Death.

And when a Falkenbach killed for the first time, the other parts of his humanity were switched off, one after another, destroyed, wiped out from their being, if the eight-pointed seal wasn't engraved on the back of their left shoulder, not far from the heart. The more a child from this cursed family waited to be sealed, the more inhumane he became.

Obviously, to contain such a powerful curse, a powerful seal was needed.

A seal that didn't react very well to other spells. Interferences usually took their toll on the human body. A Falkenbach wasn't someone you could expose to magic carelessly. After all, you never knew if the seal would break or not, if confronted with too much magic. As well as no one knew how such an event, unheard of for now, might end up. Death, maybe. Or complete inhumanity.

Well, it wasn't that Klaus was concerned about what would become of the body he was hijacking. But, if possible, he'd prefer not to have a completely inhumane Falkenbach, even if a human being, on the loose. He had had his fair share of Falkenbach related inconveniences. Wasn't eager to try again. Was even less pleased by the perspective now that he knew his psycho friend was also after him. Really, he shouldn't have told Barnett to wake him up.

Klaud sighed and asked for another drink. There was no more alcohol at the loft, and this much pain asked to be drown into whiskey as soon as possible. Next time, he'd make sure to order Katherine not to touch the bottles. One way or another, the annoying doppelganger had emptied the minibar while stabbing herself. He had to give her credit for that.

The Mystic Grill's bartenders were busy this night. Not very surprising, considering that teenagers were so numerous with the school party that no one cared, only for this night, whether they were past the legal drinking age or not.

Someone sat down on the bar stool next to him.

"Ric, you're bleeding."

Damn. Someone who knew the teacher, but didn't know he wasn't exactly him.

As if he hadn't enough to ruminate about.

Wait, what?

He was bleeding? How so? How could he have not noticed? Was it a side effect of the spell Maddox had used to keep this body from shattering? How the bloody hell hadn't he be able to feel the pain...?

The pain.

Of course.

The pain was just this much, that he couldn't feel anything else.

Klaus looked at the one who had talked to him.

The Original almost choked.

She gave him a concerned look and then patted him on the shoulder.

"You should really do something about that. There's blood on your shirt, you know."

Klaus glanced at Galswinthe sideways.

"I already changed clothes. I didn't think there would be... leftovers."

For a moment he considered being baffled by the fact that Galswinthe was alive. Really. He had thought for so long she was dead that it was completely freaking him out that she wasn't.

Kol.

It was all Kol's fault.

Kol must have thought it'd be fun to tell everyone she was dead.

But Klaus couldn't afford to look astonished. If Alaric Saltzman knew her, he couldn't act as if he didn't. If Alaric Saltzman knew her, the Original had to be careful. About what she had told him. About what he was supposed to know.

"It's your scar that is bleeding, Alaric. You have this round, bloody print on your shirt, and it's growing bigger."

She was right. If he was attentive enough, he could feel the blood driping from the seal, right before being absorbed by the fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing.

Klaus could feel it over the pain that was eating him alive. Muscles, flexed to the point that he had this disturbing impression they would crush his bones in no time. Veins, swollen enough for him to feel the bloodflow crashing against the walls. Blood, running so quickly it almost blasted his arteries. Skin, outstretched, on the verge of breaking.

Or at least it felt like it.

Being a Falkenbach sucked.

"The scar. Right. I'll ask someone to give it a look."

And he prepared to leave.

But a hand, strong, yet delicate, grasped his arm. Gal wasn't done talking.

Or maybe she knew.

"Galswinthe. Let go."

"So we know each other. Anyway, it's one of my children you're using as a vessel. I don't care if you knew about it or not. But I've spent centuries looking after my kids. You'd better get the hell out of this body. Now."

Was she threatening him? She was. But she didn't know who he really was. If she had known, she wouldn't have. Or maybe she would have anyway. That was the thing with Gal. All about family. Always. Forever. Family was the only reason she was still here, alive, or undead, whatever, after what Kol had done to her. Looking after them. Her family. The daughter she and her husband had raised. Her children. Their children. Caring about even her hundred times diluted blood.

Klaus was kind of jealous. He and his siblings had taken an oath of always being here for each other, and there he was, alone. If Galswinthe could still love her family after seven centuries of generations, why couldn't they do the same, when they were brothers and sister?

"I thought you were dead, dear. Your husband thought so too. Kol said he had beheaded you to cause trouble. Apparently he didn't, but he certainly caused trouble by lying about it."

Gal stiffened.

Hans. This body scrounger knew about Hans. Who was it already, amongst the Originals, that had this disturbing habit of body jumping into other people?

"Klaus."

The original vampire with the face, in fact, the body of her umpteenth-times-great-grand-son, smiled. Hateful, hateful smile. Hateful body thief.

"Klaus indeed. Now you would let me go? I wouldn't want to kill your descendant in order to escape."

Gal grew pale. Why the hell Klaus was in Alaric's body wasn't exactly her concern. For now, she was more worried about him slicing his throat with the knife he had placed against his neck.

She let go of him.

"Well, I'm not going to kill him just like that. After all, my presence in this body is possible only thanks to Maddox substituting most of his blood with mine. If he dies... We don't want another Falkenbach vampire, do we? The first one is already enough trouble on his own."

Klaus looked her in the eyes. He wasn't going to blackmail her with her kid's life. He could do way better, or worse, eitherway. Something that she woudn't be able to undo, no matter what.

Compulsion. He could do compulsion even in a human body. Shitty Originals really were shitty.

"You won't help the Salvatores or any other person to fight back. You'll stay in your motel room or wherever you're staying as long as the full moon isn't passed."

Gal felt her lips parting to repeat. She didn't want to say it. But she had no choice.

"I won't help anyone to fight back."

As if she could do anything against Klaus. As if she could do anything about anything.

"I will stay in my motel room as long as the full moon isn't passed."

"One last thing before you go."

A mean smirk extended Klaus' lips as he watched her, listening to him without being able to say anything. Now he knew how to deal with his psycho friend once he'd arrive in Mystic Falls, searching for him and trying to make his life a living hell, as always.

"Your beloved is on his way to come here. You should try to reason him before he goes on a rampage in the city, shouldn't you? After all, Hans Falkenbach has deserved to be freed from my brother's lie, and, don't you want to see your husband once again?"

Gal nodded. Before leaving, she told him what she thought of his methods.

"You better not do anything to his body. You know how much I care about my family, and this kid is this generation's dearest to my heart."

Maybe she wasn't as strong as an Original, but unlike him, she had friends. Friends that wouldn't let Klaus walk away if she died by his hand. Friends that could help her to get her revenge if she needed to. Maybe they wouldn't ever be able to kill him. But they could make him suffer.

Witches. Vampires. Even werewolves, and a bunch of other creatures, quite odd, quite rare, quite unknown. Friends are what you make when you're not actually trying to kill every single person that cross your path and doesn't curtsey low enough. But that, Klaus couldn't understand it.

She left. On her way to her motel room, of course. And Alaric wasn't the one who'd go and worry about her. You know, the person you are calling is temporarily unavailable, and all...

Alaric Saltzman.

Klaus sighed. A pretty interesting man indeed.

Not that he was interested. The original vampire had no interest in anything that wasn't related to breaking his own bloody curse. But many other people would have thought the Falkenbach Curse was interesting. Elijah had considered it interesting, long ago. A shame he had been daggered by this very body. Or maybe not. Elijah was being a bloody nuisance lately. To be dead for a while might help him being the good brother he had been once again.

Still.

As uninterested as he was, Klaus had to admit the Falkenbach had a curious family tree, curious family circumstances, and a curious family curse. No one knew where this curse came from, as a matter of fact. And, he had tamed without even being aware of it a dangerously uncaring vampire.

Things were strange enough as they were.

Klaus would better not try to figure out what the ghost feelings he had been dealing with all day long meant. He really, really, didn't want to feel the terrible anger that had appeared when he had killed the witch. And he certainly didn't want to think about the surprise and the warmth that had overwhelmed him when the older Salvatore had confessed his love for the history teacher.

Surprise, sure, but warmth too.


	26. ATOR, part 26: So strange

_2x18 and 2x19_

* * *

 _I have been a good girl, I didn't write in five days, I caught up some sleep, and what did I get in return? "YOU WILL NOT GO NEAR THE COMPUTER AFTER 9:30 IN THE EVENING ANYMORE!"_  
 _I hate you mom._

 _But you know what? I don't care. I'll just set the alarm clock sooner. Like, 3:30 in the morning._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 26: So strange**

The door opened, and Katherine sat down as if she had been the perfectly obedient vampire she was supposed to be.

Right. She had been. Up to some point. That is, she had obeyed Klaus. She had no choice about that. But after some time she had grown bored. There was no more alcohol in the apartment, and that sucked. So she had grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and written every single insult she could think of. She couldn't go out? Very well. She'd redecorate.

It was Klaus.

The doppelganger wasn't sure whether or not it was a good thing. If it had been one of the Original's witches, her piece of art would have been thrown away before Klaus could see it. That would have been a shame. But she wasn't sure how he'd react.

Maybe, if she could piss him off enough, he'd put her out of her misery.

Make no mistake. Katherine wasn't one to wish to be killed. But that'd still be better than suffering for centuries and seeing the original vampire enjoy his revenge. On her.

Klaus frowned when he saw her work, but he wasn't exactly angry. In fact, he seemed to have other things on his mind. And to be in pain. Which was great.

"You really did that? Are you twelve years old or what?"

Katherine pouted. Damn. Another failed attempt, then.

"Klaus. You're back... And you look baffled."

Yup. That was it. He seemed to be really, really uncomfortable. Surely something had happened. And not anything. You don't make a thousand years old vampire uncomfortable with a dirty joke. She knew. She had tried. Many times.

Klaus didn't even try to deny it. He sat on the couch, and sighed.

When he borrowed other people's body, he seemed to be somewhat more open to others. Or maybe he was faking it. It wouldn't have been a surprise if he did. I open up to you, you tell me all I want to know, that kind of thing. As if Katherine would be honest if he was.

"Your former boy toy kissed the history teacher."

It took some time for Katherine to process the information.

Former boy toy. Damon, obviously. To kiss. Action. Including lips on lips. History teacher. Alaric Saltzman. Currently possessed by Klaus. Damon. Alaric. Klaus. Kiss. Men. Damon had kissed Alaric Saltzman. Damon had kissed Alaric Saltzman. Damon had kissed Alaric Saltzman.

Really?

Katherine coughed. It was too much information.

"My form... Damon did what?"

Klaus glared at her.

Yup. Damon had kissed the history teacher. For real. That was... unexpected.

And terribly, terribly interesting. Katherine couldn't resist the temptation. It was way too hilarious, even thinking about Klaus fighting the urge to punch, or even kill on the spot, the man that was kissing him while he was in another body than his own. But having unexpected relationship tumbling into you is the risk, when you invade other people's personal space. And body jumping was a serious personal space invasion. So the Original'd better not complain about that.

"So basically, Damon kissed you."

Why? was an interesting question. Maybe the vampire had been stone drunk, but still, it didn't look like him. From what she knew, and Katherine had kept an eye on him as she had on Stefan during the last decades, though not for the same reasons, Damon Salvatore was exclusively straight. For him to kiss a man out of the blue was... unlooked-for.

Klaus gave her a death glare. That was serious.

"He confessed to him. And it was I who heard it. And who felt the kiss."

Damon had conf...! Whatever. That was... That... She didn't even have words to name what it was.

Certainly, Katherine didn't love Damon. Still, she kind of liked him. He had been nice, and playing with him had been interesting. Of course, she'd wouldn't sacrifice herself for him if she had to, but it was this way with everyone. She wasn't even sure if she'd have sacrificed her life for Stefan. And she loved him. That said it all.

"And the worst in all that, is that there was this much warmth in this man's chest after the confession. As much warmth as when something brings the conversation round the case of his girlfriend, Jenna. And that's disturbing."

Klaus went to the bathroom, leaving the doppelganger alone in the room. Good. She always felt better when he wasn't around. After all, he was the original asshole who wanted her tortured for centuries, maybe millennia. Even her boredom being relieved couldn't match the thought of a slow, agonizing death.

Then she picked up the strange scent. It was blood. But she hadn't sensed it before. As if it wasn't exactly blood. Which was strange. Even vampire blood smelled almost the same as human blood, and that was why vampires weren't usually able to tell their own kind before seeing more obvious hints. Such as, healing wounds, or vampire-mode face. Obvious hints.

Klaus walked in the main room again. He wasn't wearing any shirt, and handed her a towel.

"Help me with this."

Then he sat down, showing her the teacher's back, and she saw.

Katherine saw the scar, bleeding heavily, as if the skin had cracked. Maybe it had.

"What the hell is that?!"

"That, dear, is the Falkenbach Seal. You heard me say it already, this man is cursed to the bone. And the seal doesn't like magic very much. So could you, please, and when I say please I oviously mean that as an order, clean the wound, Katerina? I just ruined a shirt because of this, and I don't intend to walk aroung half naked."

The doppelganger eyed the history teacher assets, and thought it wouldn't do anyone any harm. But who was she to talk back to the great Niklaus?

So she complied, and started to clean the wound.

The smell was so strange, enticing as any human's blood, of course, but a bit freaking her out, that she had to ask. Maybe Klaus wouldn't answer. Maybe he didn't know either. But she had to ask.

"What is wrong with this blood? It gives me the chills."

She heard the body scrounger sneer, but he answered. He apparently was a lot more disturbed by Damon's unexpected kiss than he wanted her to know. Because when Klaus was almost nice like he was at the moment, either he wanted something, or he was deeply troubled by something.

Well, Katherine could understand how disturbing it was to be suddenly kissed by someone you'd never think would do that. Like, Damon kissing the history teacher.

Damn. That was still as hilarious as before.

"Feels like it's kind of poisonous, doesn't it? It is not. But it's filled with magic, as it comes from the scar and not any other wound. The seal has more than a thousand years of history. As the Falkenbach Curse. This blood is corrupted by a several centuries old curse, habitually filtered by the eight-pointed seal. Which is a bit saturated right now."

Well. It was one hell of a curse, then.

When most of the blood had been removed, Klaus asked her to put a bandage on the scar, so that he wouldn't soak the sheets, and he went to bed.

Time to sleep, even more for an Original borrowing a human body. Sleep was necessary for a vampire. Many reasons. First one being, your mind needs a timeout once in a while, or you simply go crazy. Also, sleeping made vampires feel better, as for anybody else.

And Klaus hadn't allowed Katherine to sleep.

Bastard.

She waited for him to wake up, restraining herself from grabbing a pen and drawing him a mustache. He'd certainly wake up, and be mad at her. She didn't want Klaus to be any angrier at her than he already was. Lately, she hadn't had to stab herself, cut her throat open or write an apology letter with her own blood, which was a pretty valuable progress. The doppelganger wasn't going to give him a reminder of how much he wanted her to suffer.

Klaus didn't even look at her in the morning, and that was a fucking great thing. He had shit to do, such as, threatening people, making evil plans, killing people... Not supposed to come back to the loft before the evening. Maybe a bit boring, but fucking great still.

Then Katherine had this suprise.

Someone knocked on the door, and, even though she couldn't open the door or answer, the outside world opened to her once more. The outside world looked a lot like Damon.

"So you're not dead. Shame."

"Why, thank you. I'm happy to see you too, honey."

The two vampire stared at each other for some time, then the woman who was with Damon came into the loft, while, threshold taken into account, the older Salvatore stayed in the corridor.

"I heard something interesting, yesterday evening."

Damon stiffened.

"From Klaus. About you."

"Couldn't he simply shut up?"

"Well, I think you traumatized him. And I'm curious. How the hell did you end up falling in love with a man, Damon? That's so unlike you, I'm bewildered."

The younger vampire bit his lip not to say anything. Katherine didn't look bewildered, at all, and she was definitely enjoying this. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him as helpless as he actually was.

"That's not your concern, Katherine. And Alaric is a thousand time better than you were, so I think my taste is becoming better with time."

She pretended to be outraged. This was so much fun.

"Oh my, Damon! What would your father say? His oldest son in love with a man!"

"I don't give a damn about what his opinion would be. I gave up pleasing him the day he killed me. Or, even before that, but this day was the day I didn't give a shit anymore for real. And fuck, it's not like I will ever get my love back."

Katherine didn't tell him about the ghost emotions Klaus had experienced. Not because she was a selfish woman. She was selfish, sure. But she wasn't against being kind when it cost her nothing. She only wasn't even positive that the history teacher would survive the possession. It was better not to get Damon's hopes up.

The woman that had come with the vampire rejoined them.

"No one else in there, Damon. You want me to look for something in particular?"

"No, thank you, Andie."

Damon gave the doppelganger a last look and smirked. For a change, something good. Katherine, locked in an apartment with her sworn ennemy. Great. He could still console himself with that.

And damn. He still cared. After all she had done. He refrained a sigh, and grinned instead.

"I've got a present for you."

Vervain.

"But did you deserve it? After all, you gave Klaus all the informations he needed to impersonate Ric. And before you say anything, yes, I know he compelled you, but still. Maybe you could... say something about his plans?"

"Sorry, mouth locked."

"Then, no vervain for you. Be happily compelled for the rest of your miserable life."

Andie interrupted, while checking her phone. She was waiting for someone to call her back.

"I manage pretty well with that, actually."

"Andie, I don't want to kill you, torture you or do you any harm, so it's not exactly the same."

"I'm just saying, you know..."

Damon and her prepared to leave, and Katherine felt she had to find something, fast, or she wouldn't get that damn vervain.

Then she remembered the night Klaus had possessed Alaric Saltzman.

"Wait, Damon! I might have something interesting to give you, even if I can't say anything."

Damon frowned, and saw her disappearing in the loft. When she came back, she had an amethist ring engraved with an eight-pointed star in the middle of the stone in her hand, that she gave to him.

"I have no idea what it is exactly, but your friend is cursed, and when Klaus, in his body, touched it, he looked like he felt as much pain as we do when we touch vervain. You might need it."


	27. ATOR, part 27: Awake, as I can see

_Set in 2x20_

* * *

 _Ric is back!_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 27: Awake, as I can see**

It hurt.

Up till then, it had hurt a little.

And then it had hurt a lot more.

Alaric collapsed to the ground. His body fell clumsily on the floor.

But it wasn't that that hurt so much.

No. It was as if his whole body was being torn apart. Especially his left shoulder.

Left shoulder. Now he knew what was going on with the pain.

The teacher saw a girl. She looked a lot like Elena. Maybe it was her.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was sitting on a chair, hand tied behind his back, and he was feeling much better. It seemed to him only a few seconds had passed, but he could guess it was more likely hours.

A man was sitting across the table, reading a book.

Alaric stayed silent, trying to guess what exactly had happened since he had last seen Isobel. He had no idea. He wasn't even sure how much time he had been out. All he knew was that he had had nightmares and dreams. What about, he couldn't say. Warmth, anger, surprise, disconfort, was all he had left from his slumber.

The man looked up. His body was that of a young man, and in a way his eyes too. But they were also very old. Bitter. And yet laughing.

"Awake, as I can see."

And he smiled, a sick, grim, horrendous smile. And then he left.

What was that about?

As the hunter began to twist his hands to free himself, a young woman stepped out of his apartment's bathroom. Alaric squinted his eyes. He had one hell of a headache, and had to concentrate if he wanted to see who she was. If only he knew her. Which wasn't certain at all.

It was... Elena.

Or...

"Katherine?"

The doppelganger grinned a sad grin and sat on the chair next to him.

"Klaus wants me to compel you to go and say something to the Salvatore brothers. I hope you're able to walk?"

"That will do."

"Well, then..."

The vampire took away the bracelet full of vervain he always had with him. She looked him in the eyes, and began speaking. She was doing this thing with her pupils, that gave him a sticking nausea. But his mind cleared, and he felt like he could not only walk, but that he could actually walk straight ahead too.

Katherine went behind the chair to free him, and was surprised to see he had already undone the rope. She frowned, wondering how the teacher could have done that when he wasn't even able to think normally. She looked at him. He was massaging his wrists, and looked like it was no big deal.

"How did you do that?"

Alaric had a little smile, tired, jaded smile. Freeing himself from this kind of ties wasn't much, even more when no one was expecting him to do so.

"You're not part of the family with the greatest assassins in the last centuries as family members without some instinct and natural skills for this kind of things."

And he left, as if he had said something completely trivial.

The hunter searched for his car, not sure of where he had parked it. He couldn't find it, so he decided to go to the boarding house on foot. Maybe it was for the best. After all, if he could walk straight, the world was still more or less attacking him with all its might. That was usually called a headache, he knew that, but he was certain the world resented him personally. If it didn't, then why had he to endure all this supernatural farce?

Anyway, if he tried to drive to the Salvatore's, he might as well throw himself in a ditch already.

It took him some time, but if he felt like his head was going to blow up any minute, he was here.

Ric took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

The door opened, and he came face to face with Jenna.

His heart missed a beat. Or it would have if he wasn't so weary.

Sure, he was happy to see her. He was happy to know she was alright. But he also knew that her threatening him with a crossbow was a good enough hint that she knew. And, either he had done something really rude lately without being aware of it, enough for her to hate him for the rest of her life, or something had happened while he was unconscious. If nothing had happened, she wouldn't have asked to be sure he was himself.

Damon, Stefan, Elena, and even Elijah arrived in the hallway, and Alaric gulped. Something was definitely wrong. He had to find something to say, he had to prove he was himself, even if he didn't know why.

And why the hell was the Original alive in the first place? Elijah was supposed to be daggered in the basement, and...

No matter. He needed a proof. Now.

The story with Jeremy entering Jenna's room during their first night together came to his mind. Better than nothing. Of course, Jenna and Elena blushed. Ric didn't. He wasn't able to feel anything about saying it out loud right now. Somehow, his brain operated just fine, but his emotional center was bogged down. Too tired, certainly.

Things went their way.

Alaric delivered Klaus's message, and only then he understood the meaning of the words he had just let out. The sacrifice was this very night. And he was ashamed he wasn't even able to feel bad about it. And he was ashamed he wasn't even able to feel ashamed.

Everybody watched him fall upon the couch, as he held his head between his hands.

"I won't ask if you keep aspirin in this house, Damon, but sometimes I'd really like it if you could only be a normal guy, who gets hangover after drinking too much."

Of course, there was no aspirin.

Ric listened to them talking about what Klaus did while he was borrowing his body, and the hunter almost achieved to care. Now, he was there, sitting on this sofa with his best friend and his girlfriend, and nobody died, even though Klaus thought Bonnie did. And, except Isobel. But she had it coming. All in all, it could have been worse.

Elena went away at some point, he wasn't exactly sure why. Stefan followed her.

Alaric, Damon, Jenna and Elijah were still there, in the living room, and the silence was heavy.

"I guess I still have to apologize for one or two things... First of all, I apologize for stabbing you with the dagger."

Elijah raised an eyebrow. There was nothing behind this voice. It wasn't exactly a lie, but... Apologies weren't the same for this man than for other people. And the Original was sure he had already heard that tone somewhere...

"Apology accepted."

The teacher nodded, thankful for that. Then he turned to face Damon, who looked at him with...

"I'm sorry for the troubles, Damon. I wasn't the one who did all this, of course, but I wasn't careful enough to prevent it."

"Shut up, Ric. It's not like any of us ever thought the big bad original vampire could body jump into human beings. You've got nothing to worry about."

Ric frowned. His vision was still unfocused, but his hearing was fine. There was something in the vampire's voice that wasn't right. Pained. Wounded, even.

He'll think about it later.

"Jenna... I still have one thing to tell you, if I want to be completely honest with you."

Damon stiffened.

If Alaric was really going to say what the vampire thought he was going to say, the hunter was going to risk everything for his relationship. If Jenna...

The vampire bit his lower lip, only noticed by Elijah. He couldn't hope for Ric to be unhappy with Jenna. It'd have been selfish, and Damon was never selfish when it came to his best friend. Or at least he tried not to be. He wanted Alaric to be happy. If Damon couldn't get his own happy ending, at least he'd find some comfort if he knew the man he loved was living a good life.

The teacher took off his shirt, and tore off the bandage he had underneath.

"This scar is not only a scar..."

Elijah interrupted, finally able to remember what it was that was so familiar with the man's eyes. The inhumanity of the Falkenbach was the answer.

"Falkenbach. That explains a lot."

"Falken-what?"

Because that didn't explain anything to Jenna, who had no idea what they were talking about.

The Original sat down, and said two words about it being a curse that every member of a particular family had inherited at birth. A cursed legacy he had seen only twice in his life, and he would always remember. It wasn't a curse to be considered as unimportant.

Damon winced when nobody was looking at him, which was almost all the time, since everyone's attention was busy with Alaric. Now they didn't even have this secret to keep. Now they all knew what he had spend days and weeks looking after, as a freaking stalker. And he and Alaric didn't have this bond between them anymore. Secrecy was dead, and with it had died the last hope he had about his love for Ric.

"Why is your scar stained with dried blood, exactly?"

It was better if he didn't think about it.

The hunter frowned, and tried to touch the damaged skin. His head started to pin, so Jenna did it for him, and effectively, the scar had been reopened lately.

Damon tensed up when she ran her fingers on Alaric's skin. This wasn't fair.

Hands clenched to the point he was drawing blood from his palms when the nails broke through.

In his jacket pocket, he felt something cold. He took it and looked at it for a while.

The ring Katherine had stolen from Klaus.

"Catch that, Ric."

And he threw it to his best friend who caught it without much effort.

The instant the hunter's skin came into contact with the jewellery, he knew he had made a mistake.

A terrible eletrical discharge made his heart goes crazy for three or four seconds. He could feel it, skipping an heartbeat. Then racing against his chest.

And for the same amout of time, he felt nothing. Not even fear, due to his lack of emotions.

Ric let go of the ring as soon as he could, and then he was back to normal. Almost. If shrieking on the sofa while shaking like a leaf could be called normal. If the fact that his scar started bleeding again, even if the blood smelled like death, even for a vampire, was considered normal.

"What the hell was that?!"

Elijah bent down, and put his hand on the ring. He recognized it as soon as he saw it.

"The Falkenbach's weakness, if you can call it so. Enchanted jewelry, as always. The seal on your back and the seal on the amethyst are resonating, overriding without lasting effects the magic that is keeping you humane inside. In return, it inflicts great pain. But I've seen how this usually work out. A Falkenbach on the loose is terrible. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The original left, and Damon went back to his room. He didn't want to witness once more his own despair.

There he found Elena waiting for him, with her crazy resurrection plan, and it pissed him off how everyone was willing to throw away their life for the ones they loved, when he wasn't able to get his own happiness. Anger took the best out of him, and he fed elena some of his blood. He wasn't going to let her, who he almost considered a little sister in some way, die on him because of an uncertain potion.

Stefan stopped him, but to late, and they fought.

Then Alaric came in, shortly followed by Jenna.

The hunter managed to get him to calm down and not do another stupid thing, such as stabbing his own brother.

Then Ric noticed. His bloodied coat could still be seen somewhere between the sheets of Damon's bed.


	28. ATOR, part 28: Does he know?

_2x20 and 2x21_

* * *

 _Jenna... If I could have saved her life, I'd have done it. But it simply doesn't fit. I believe in her and Alaric as much as I believe in Dalaric. I don't want to break her heart._  
 _One day, I'll find a way to make it work. One day, I'll write something where she stays alive._  
 _But for now, I have no idea about how I can do that._

 _Rest in peace, Jenna._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 28: Does he know?**

Alaric was observing Damon, but his mind was occupied by something else. That is, he was thinking about the vampire, alright, but he wasn't noticing his stare was intriguing the said vampire.

"Ric, may you stop staring at me like that? It's uncomfortable."

The teacher blinked, obviously not aware he was staring.

"Sorry, man. I was thinking about... stuff."

Such as, the fact that the vampire was keeping a bloodied coat in his bed. His bloodied coat. His coat, with his blood on it.

It was ridiculous.

The only explanation Ric could think of was ridiculous.

And yet it explained many things. Damon's demeanor had been slightly off, lately, but not so much, so the hunter hadn't noticed. Damon avoiding him. Damon opening his heart to him. The tears on his face when Alaric had died. Damon's sudden honesty. Damon forcing Elena to drink his blood in a fit of anger after Jenna had accepted the teacher as he was.

Still, it was ridiculous. Alaric wouldn't have thought he was so self-centered as to think his best friend could possibly be... be... to think his best friend could be in love with him.

Yet the thought wouldn't let him alone.

And that was disturbing him to the point that he felt guilty, even though he most likely was imagining things. Guilty, sad, even.

If Damon really loved him, which was pretty certainly a stupid idea, Alaric would never be able to respond to the vampire's feelings.

It wasn't about Damon being a vampire. It wasn't about Damon being the one he had come to Mystic Falls to kill in the first place. It wasn't about him not loving Damon back.

It was simply... not it.

Ric asked for a drink to the bartender, taking his eyes off Damon.

Whatever the feelings the vampire could or couldn't have for him, the hunter loved Jenna.

Her accepting him as he was had been such a relief. He seriously hoped it wasn't only the tension of the last events that had lead her to be more receptive. Maybe once everything would be finished, she'd think about it again. Maybe Jenna wouldn't want to live with a freaking natural born killer.

With Damon, at least, it would never be a problem.

Alaric took a sip of bourbon. He loved Jenna, that he was sure of.

But he wasn't certain that he didn't love Damon too.

Ric had never been interested in men. He wasn't against it, but he simply had never thought about a man the way he was currently thinking about his best friend. You love who you love, was what he had always believed. It being a man or a woman, you being a man or a woman, didn't matter. For now, Alaric had only loved women. Damon wasn't a woman. And here he was, thinking about him.

That was unexpected.

Once Gal had told him he was kind of incredible when it came to loving someone. That he was something of a love-extremist. He had laughed. But he knew she was right. He could do just anything for the sake of love. He had become a fucking vampire hunter for Isobel, he had given up on his promise not to kill ever again, for her. And, as long as he loved someone, he would never consider switching to somebody else.

The women he had loved weren't many. Maybe because he wasn't able to ever be unfaithful unless he didn't love them anymore, or they were dead. For now, he loved Jenna, and she was alive. He could never truly think about his friend this way as long as things stayed as they were.

And, to be honest, the thought of Damon loving him was so ridiculous he must have been delirious when it had come to his mind.

He'd better stop thinking about it.

Damon said something about how much of an idiot he had been, for doing what he had done. And a voice Ric would recognize anywhere, anytime, was heard behind them.

The hunter stiffened, listening to the voice of the man that had been reading a book in his loft this very morning. He understood threats were being made, but really couldn't grasp what was said.

When the Original that had stolen his body left, he clenched his hand so hard the glass he was holding broke into pieces. Glass splinters entered his skin, others fell on the bar counter with a crystal sound, and blood was jumbled with alcohol.

Damon looked at his wound with fear, and hurried to have him open his hand, as Ric wasn't moving at all despite the pain. The vampire winced when he saw glass sticking out of his palm and fingers, and tried to get them out.

"It will hurt a bit."

It was all he could say.

Because right now, the only thing Damon wanted to do was to get those splinters out of the teacher's flesh, and then, to lick the blood until there'd be no more. He wanted to put his lips on Alaric's skin, to kiss it dry, to drink every drop of blood that could be stolen from the wound. He was eager to have his tongue running on the fingers, to soothe the pain with his mouth, to show the world how much he loved this man.

How much he desired Alaric, and not only his blood.

If he could kiss him until his lips were unable to sense anything else, Damon would have been content. But he knew he couldn't.

When the hunter's hand was freed from the splinters, although not from the wound, the vampire couldn't resist taking his own now bloody fingers to his lips, thinking Ric wasn't looking at him.

The face the vampire made when he tasted his blood, discreetly, truth to be told, but not discreetly enough for Alaric not to see, was enough of a giveaway.

Ric should have been angry that his best friend was using his wound as a mean to take a snack, but he couldn't. Damon didn't seem happy at all while tasting his blood. He seemed lost, about to cry, hurt, desperate. He didn't seem content, pleased with himself, amused.

The vampire's face was that of a man in love that can only try to touch that has been touched by his beloved, to breathe the air that has been breathed by the one he loves.

As ridiculous as it sounded, Damon Salvatore was enthralled by him.

Or if he wasn't, then someone should write a book about his ways of expressing feelings, because they were totally unheard of.

When Alaric turned his head to look openly at Damon, all evidences of love had disappeared.

The teacher paid for the broken glass and for his drink, and the bartender searched for band aids to give him. It wasn't the first time customers had trouble with shattered glass. Though, usually, it was someone breaking a bottle on another's head, or simply a glass falling to the ground, and not someone destroying their glass with sheer strenght.

"Maybe we should pay a visit to you apartment."

Ric nodded.

He knew he couldn't talk about it when he wasn't able to give a positive answer to Damon.

This, this love, this situation, this relationship, they couldn't talk about it.

If they did, it'd destroy everything.

Not because they wouldn't be able to stay friends afterwards. Alaric and Damon weren't so selfish as to think the other had any choice in what he felt. But for a simple reason, that he didn't want to make his friend suffer more than he already did.

Ric didn't know which action was the best, telling or not telling, asking or not asking, talking or not talking. Maybe it was worse to stay silent. But for now, he couldn't find the courage to risk it.

They walked to his loft, not saying a word, too preoccupied with their mistakes, their errors, too busy searching for what they had done wrong, about them, about others, about the events, about their whole lives. The hunter invited Damon in, wondering how Klaus had been able to withstand the treshold barrier once he had been back in his own body. Maybe it had something to do with the witches he had brought with him.

Then he left Damon alone with Katherine. As his friend said, it was better for him not to know what he was planning.

As soon as the hunter was gone, the doppelganger switched the theme of the conversation to what was bothering her the most, aside from her future filled with torture.

"Does he know?"

Damon snorted. Of course, he knew what she was talking about.

"Does he know what?"

"Does he know that you confessed to Klaus thinking he was him?"

As hell he was going to say to his best friend that he loved him and had accidentaly confessed to the guy that had been hijacking his body.

"Shut your mouth."

She made a it's-your-choice face, and went back to the main topic.

Damon had things to do. Rescuing Blondie, not being chewed upon by a werewolf, this one didn't exactly work out, telling Klaus he had, erm, done what he had been warned not to do, and this one didn't go well either.

When he woke up and understood what the Original had done to Jenna, the vampire thought he could as well kill himself right now, instead of waiting for the fatal hour to come. Eitherway, he had been bitten by a werewolf. He was dying. And because of that, Jenna would die too.

In the end, he had destroyed everything for Ric.

At least, when he'd be dead, he wouldn't have to dwell upon it anymore.

Or he hoped so, because if he had to, death would be hell.

Time passed, and Damon arrived to the house where the witches had been slaughtered.

His eyes met Alaric's, and he thought about all he had already lost. All they had already lost. Hope was only one of those things. Love wouldn't be the last.

When he left with Elijah and Bonnie, he felt bad for forcing the hunter to stay still, but he knew it was better for everyone. Or he wanted to believe it, maybe. After all, Alaric was a dangerous man. He wasn't to be taken lightly, not even for a vampire or a witch. Still, what could he do during a sacrifice? Not much. It was better if he stayed behind.

Ric was watching them from the main door, not saying a word. He didn't even try to go out.

When the vampire looked at him, frowning, he leaned against the doorpost.

"Don't be surprised, Damon. Did you really think I wouldn't feel it?"

The teacher gave the magic barrier that was keeping him, Jeremy and John from getting out a light tap, and used his other hand to hold onto his left shoulder. These last days, he had been exposed to way too much magic, and the seal reacted to almost any spell affecting him with a low and constant pain. With any luck, it would go back to its original state with a bit of rest.

But not for now. Now, he couldn't have missed even a tracking spell.

Then he went back in, and waited.

Time went by.

Damon called.

Jenna was dead.

Dead-dead, this time.

Alaric stood up, and went to see Jeremy.

He told him.

The teenager cried, and Alaric stayed for some time.

The spell was lifted, and Ric searched for a motel. He clearly couldn't go home, and wasn't in the mood to stay at Damon's, as he had been invited to do.

He sat on the bed. He wasn't in the mood to sleep either.

Isobel was dead. Before that, she had left him to become a vampire, faking her death. Then she had been a bitch, trying to act as if she had no humanity left. The switch, right. The vampire switch was bullshit. If not, she wouldn't have been jealous of Jenna.

Jenna was dead. She had accepted him for what he was, a freaking cursed man, and then she had died. Twice in a few hours. Each time, he hadn't been there for her.

"Elena lives. It's better than nothing, I guess."

Better than nothing.

But maybe, if everybody died, it would be better. At least, there would be no more reason to be worried. Everyone, dead. The End.

He fell asleep.


	29. ATOR, part 29: End it now

_Set in 2x22_

* * *

 _Stefan... Thank you very much._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 29: End it now**

There had been a funeral.

Jenna. John. Even Jules.

Funny that they all were "J". Not so funny that they were dead.

Damon had watched Alaric, neutral face on, as he always did when he didn't want anyone to catch a glimpse of his true feelings. He had watched Elena, tired of all that. He hadn't cared enough to watch Tyler. After all, the werewolf had bitten him. Because Damon had been kind enough to free him too, and not only Caroline.

Soon there would be another funeral.

His own.

Well, he was most likely to be buried silently near the family vault. Stefan would tell everyone he was gone, since nothing was waiting for him in Mystic Falls. He'd say that, and everybody would believe he had only given up on Elena, and had left not to suffer from what he couldn't have. Ric would forget him with time, or maybe he'd wonder once in a while how came Damon had never come to visit. Stefan might tell them the truth, ten years later. Or twenty. Or the day of each of their friends' death, just before the fateful moment.

He had told Stefan so. His brother had promised they'd find a cure. As if there was one.

For now, the pain wasn't much. It hurt, sure, but he was still conscious. He hadn't begun to hallucinate. He knew he would, at some point.

Damon, a glass of bourbon in his hand, looked through the window.

The sky had this color, this normal, plain color. Same as always, when the weather was the same as this day's. Same as always, since his life had always been dramatic. Maybe grey. Maybe blue. Maybe white. Frankly, he didn't care. He looked. Didn't mean he saw.

There was nothing to be seen. No future. No prospects. No plans.

Damon was going to die, once more.

And this time, he'd die for good.

No love for him. He had had none, he had none, he would have none.

Maybe Damon Salvatore wasn't supposed to be loved.

He'd die alone.

Might as well end it now.

The vampire drank the last of his bourbon.

He put down his glass.

His fingers went to his daylight ring. It was cold. It had always been cold, heavy, not discreet at all.

Damon closed his eyes, and touched the lapis lazuli stone, with the silver "D" in the middle. "D". Damon. Dumb. Desperate. Disappointing. Detestable. Disrespectful. Desillusioned. Disdainful. Dreaded. Damaged.

Dead.

Because all that mattered was that he'd be dead by tomorrow.

How pointless had his life been?

Damon opened his eyes. He went to the window, rested his forehead against the glass, and looked at the reflexion of his eyes. All he saw in it was tiredness. He took a step back.

The ring fell to the ground.

He waited for the sun to burn him to the bone.

It hurt. No matter. The vampire was used to being in pain, now. A little more, a bit less, it was all the same. Pain was pain. Pain was his life up to this point. And since he was dying, pain was his life and that was all. A summary of his life, written on a sheet of doom, with an ink of fate, had surely been drenched in pain, when the great book of the world had yet to be put together.

His skin was burning. Understatement of the year. He had this feeling that slow, hot, hungry worms where eating his flesh, starting from one point and then circling around his face, his hands, every part of his body that wasn't covered by clothes, leaving behind them a gaping hole.

He was near to catching fire.

The blood in his veins, so cold usually, heated up. A wave of warmth flowed from the veins to the heart to the arteries, and soon became a wave of heat, and then a wave of fire. Entering his heart, the burning blood flood collapsed against the heart valves.

Let's destroy this heart that made you so pitiful, Damon. You'll only feel better. Dead, but better.

A door slammed.

Thrown out of the daylight, Damon began to heal. Someone was pining him to the floor. He rose his eyes, and saw Stefan, angry as hell. His brother had saved his life, once again. And he had forced him to live, once again. Or at least he had tried to. Which was useless. There was no cure to the werewolves poison. Both of them knew it.

Stefan said something about not letting him die, about a promise, about what he owed him. Damon looked away.

Even if he could be saved, he had nothing to live for.

"Katherine never loved me. Elena will never love me. Alaric won't ever know I love him. What's the point to fight anymore?"

Stefan looked at him, bewildered. His face went from frowning to mouth wide open, to blank, to confused. Unless all of that was part of the confused face.

The younger Salvatore had heard something unbelievable. He had heard something about his brother being in love with his best friend. He had heard something about Damon loving a man. He had heard... more than being in love with a man, Damon being honest about it.

His grip loosened, but he reacted soon enough to punch his brother when he tried to go into the light once again.

Damon fell again, and his brother decided to lock him up in the basement, until he'd find a way to heal him. There had to be a way. Every magic had a loophole. Every rule had a weak point.

As long as Damon was alive, it had to be possible to save him.

Before leaving, he still needed to ask.

"Do you truly love Alaric?"

The words were so strange when he said them, but he didn't care. If his brother loved the teacher, then be it. He couldn't say he was disappointed to hear that Elena was all for him either. If Damon was in love with Alaric Saltzman, all of them would be happier. Unless Ric didn't want of him, of course. But that wasn't his juridiction.

Damon deserved to be loved. Stefan was aware his brother had to behave more than he did, but he wasn't such a bad guy. If only he could be loved back, for once in his life, maybe Damon would become a good guy. You're not a good guy when you're never allowed to be happy.

The older Salvatore, sitting against a wall of the cell, snorted.

He wasn't going to discuss his sexual orientation with Stefan, if that was what his brother wanted.

Frankly, he believed only Alaric could make him love a man.

Ric was so much more than just anyone. For decades he had believed he would only love Katherine. Elena wasn't to be taken into account. Sure, she was different from Katherine, but it was their likeness that had caught his attention in the first place. If she hadn't been the evil-and-selfish-hag's doppelganger, he might not have ever looked at her.

Alaric was worlds apart. Damon loved him because he loved him. Nothing more.

"Not your business."

Stefan looked at the ceiling. Of course it wasn't. But Damon was dying. It wasn't as if he was asking him to be mean.

"Not mine, but Alaric's, for sure."

Suddenly the older Salvatore was at the door, his hands on the cell bars.

"You won't dare to!"

"To what, Damon?"

Stefan took a step back, and reached for his phone. He dialed the hunter/his brother's crush/his history teacher/Elena's sort-of-stepfather's number. If ever Alaric went out with Damon, he wouldn't know how to call him anymore, but eitherway.

"Fuck, Stefan! I'm dying! Whatever the outcome, it won't do any good!"

Damon's voice was almost shattering. There was fear, incredibly strong fear, in his voice. Stefan almost hung up when he heard it. His brother wasn't usually so frightened to get what he wanted most in the world. Maybe that was because this time, he cared so much he couldn't bear to risk it.

Stefan surprised himself thinking it might be a good thing if Damon and Alaric actually dated.

The teacher picked up his phone.

Apparently, he had had a lot of drinks during the day. Who could blame him?

This time too, Stefan almost changed his mind. Was he really willing to give them a chance when Ric already had a broken heart to heal, when Damon was about to die? If his brother could tell the teacher how much he loved him, which wasn't sure at all, what would happen? Would Alaric welcome this heart? Maybe he wouldn't. Hopefully, neither him or Damon were likely to fall in love with each other. If Damon had nonetheless, maybe there was hope. And then what? Happily ever after? Damon was still dying. The power of love was great and all, but Stefan wasn't really positive it would be powerful enough to save an infected vampire. This wasn't a lovey dovey sappy romance novel. Love was powerful, indeed, but not for this kind of situations.

Anyway, he needed someone to keep an eye on his brother while he'd search for a cure. Alaric Saltzman, history teacher, Damon's best friend, vampire hunter on occasion, was a perfect fit.

Confessing or not was up to Damon.

Stefan warned Ric of his brother's state, and surprisingly the drunkness in the man's voice disappeared. Actually, it was a bit creepy. As if every feeling had been shut down to leave room for seriousness. It was surely the phone that made him hear that. Because if it wasn't, it was creepy.

Stefan hang up.

He looked at his brother, coughing blood in his cell, the infection on his arm growing bigger with time. He had to hurry and find a way to save Damon.

"You stay here. Ric's on his way."

"Where would you want me to go, seriously? You locked the cell, if you forgot."

"Sorry, my bad. I should have said: You stay alive. If I come back and find you dead, I'll resent you for the rest of eternity. Same thing if you ask Alaric to kill you."

Damon grinned, but it was a grin of despair. He didn't know such a thing existed before. You learn something new everyday, even the day of your death.

"He'll have to, at some point. Unless you want him to die instead, while I'll go rabid and slaughter every soul that crosses my path?"

Stefan rolled his eyes. It wasn't funny, and Damon knew it.

The older Salvatore watched him as he left.

Maybe he should try and rip his own heart out?

Sadly, he wasn't sure he could pull such a stunt. At some point, his hand would let go, as life would be leaving him. Then he'd begin to heal. Damned accelerated healing.

And Stefan, who had called Ric.

As if he hadn't enough to deal with.

Death wasn't enough of a punishment, maybe.

The vampire sighed.

He knew his brother only wanted to help him. But Stefan was convinced he could find a cure, when there was none. Even if there was one, they had less than a day to do so. They wouldn't make it.

Confessing to Alaric would only make things worse.

A dying man's confession was only selfishness.

It'd be better if he kept his mouth shut.

It'd be better if his soon-to-come hallucinations let him be quiet about his feelings.

He hoped so.

He had already confessed to the wrong person once, he wasn't going to do a hallucinated confession of love on top of that.

Damon heard footsteps coming from the ground floor. Certainly Alaric's.

As he listened to their sound, a steel grip seized his heart. It was cold, it was strong, it was merciless. He knew what it was. It was love.

Maybe he'd die from a heart attack? It would have been nice if he could. But vampires didn't die from heart attacks, did they? If he had, he could have bragged that love had killed him. Again.


	30. ATOR, part 30: As seconds nudged one ano

**_Yes, if I was considerate, I'd post the last two chapters of the first part that is Adjusting to our reality and be done with it. But I'm not considerate, and those two chapters will be for tomorrow._**

* * *

 _I actually have no idea whether this is any good._  
 _Like Damon, I'm sick, and I've barely slept three hours last night._  
 _Hope it's not so bad._  
 _I mean, the writing, not the story._

 _My stories are always horrible._

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 30: As seconds nudged one another**

Alaric walked down the stairs.

He still was unsure of what to do with Damon's feelings. What he knew, on the other side, was that his friend had said nothing, and that maybe, it would be for the best if they stayed silent about it. After all, a cure to the werewolfves' poison was unheard of. The vampire was going to die.

He stopped by the basement fridge and filled a glass with blood.

From what he knew, Damon would need it.

When he arrived to the cell door, his best friend was sitting in his cell, chin falling on his torso, eyes gazing onto the ground. He obviously had heard him coming, but wasn't reacting to his presence.

Ric thought of staying outside, but chose not to.

The teacher entered the cell, which he locked back, glass of blood in hand. He looked at Damon for half a minute, and, as the vampire was still ignoring him stubbornly, he crouched down and handed him the glass.

"Now, you drink."

Damon snorted and looked away.

Hell, Ric could be as stubborn as the vampire was if he wanted to.

Moving to face Damon, Alaric placed the glass just under his friend's nose, looking him in the eyes.

"Not letting you die before time is up."

The vampire averted his gaze once more.

This was getting annoying. Damon wanted to play this game? Change of rules.

Alaric grabbed a handful of black hair, and forced the glass to the vampire's mouth. His friend gapped with surprise, and his eyes went to the blue and fierce eyes that were the hunter's. All he saw in them was concern.

Damon swallowed the blood with difficulty, some bordering his mouth with a red color. Already Ric was forcing him to take another sip, tilting the glass horizontal.

The vampire gulped, then decided it was enough.

He didn't want to see the hunter right now, he didn't want to see anyone, he wanted to die alone without killing anyone else, without killing any of the people he cared for, without killing Alaric. He wished for it to end, one or two hallucinations, and then going rabid, alone in a locked cell, and then death. He hoped he could have a deaths clean death, if he couldn't get a clean death.

"Go away."

Alaric's grip on his hair tightened. It hurt a bit, but it was nothing. Blessed the accelerate regeneration. Hell, even blessed the werewolf bite. It was nothing compared to the pain the werewolf bite was inflicting him.

Ludicrous.

Public vampires notification: let's all be bitten by a werewolf! It'll end your worries for good.

"Not an option, Damon. You know that already, don't you?"

What the hell was that supposed to mean, exactly?

He hadn't yet swallowed all the blood he had in his mouth. He was stronger than his friend. He was the shitty vampire frantic killer of Mystic Falls, wasn't he?

If that was what it'd take to have the teacher leaving, he'd do it. Maybe the hunter would even stake him, ending it now. Frankly, that would be for the best, if things turned out that way.

Damon winced when some of his hair got pulled out as he outdid Ric, but he pushed the man against the cell far wall and vamped out.

Blood was dripping from his mouth, anger was lurking in his eyes.

"I told you to go away!"

Alaric watched his best friend threatening him with a neutral face. It wasn't that he was hiding his emotions. It was simply that he wasn't afraid. Or curious. Or anything. He knew it was all an act, even though the anger was genuine. The vampire wasn't actually trying to hurt him. He wasn't yet going rabid either, or he wouldn't have stopped. He only wanted to scare him away.

Good luck frightening a freaking Falkenbach with so little acting. Maybe, if he hadn't known vampires were real. But he knew. So it wasn't unexpected. Anyway, even the unexpected could barely scare a Saltzman. It would merely disturb him a bit.

He was interested, at best. That Damon would go to such lenghts to get rid of him meant a lot.

The teacher sighed.

"I wanted time to think about it, but hell, we don't have that anymore."

Without any other warning, Alaric freed his right arm with his human yet unusual strenght, and got a hold of Damon's, roughly pulling him closer. His hand then moved to the vampire's back, his arm preventing him from moving.

Damon's lips crushed on his own, slightly parted.

Ric sneaked his tongue between the teeth, forcing the vampire to open his mouth a bit more, and he began to truly kiss him with an eagerness that kept Damon silent. Not that he would have broken the kiss to talk, anyway. It felt too wonderful to do that. He closed his eyes.

Alaric's chest felt broad and strong against his own, Alaric's hand on his back was pressing its fingers as if it was trying to tear his shirt apart, Alaric's tongue was hot and wet and fucking explorating his mouth.

Maybe it was time to respond to that enthusiasm?

Not believing this was actually happening, Damon kissed him back, all teeth and tongue, forgetting he was still wearing his vampire face.

The hunter didn't mind. It wasn't a human face, but who said he was human enough to care? Human body, certainly, but the mind... His mind was that of a demon, of a reaper. Falkenbach. Saltzman. Eitherway. He didn't deserve to be called human, even though he was one.

Eyes half-closed, looking at the dark veins on Damon's face through his lashes, he couldn't help thinking how great it felt to love someone who was at least as dangerous and deadly as he was. No need to watch out for what he couldn't say, no need to be afraid the other wouldn't understand.

No need to worry.

As for their kiss, it was getting all bloody. The little fright-and-scare-game Damon had tried to pull hadn't worked, but that changed nothing to the fact the vampire hadn't drunk half of the blood he had taken into his mouth. Luckily, Alaric didn't care much about blood. It had this metallic taste, but it wasn't disgusting or anything. It was only liquid, and what, bloody. His family's legacy didn't care about blood. Try to be a killer who's bothered by blood. A bit difficult. Especially when you're using not only poisons but blades and bullets and fists too.

A droop of blood rolled down Ric's chin, leaving a dark read trail on his skin.

Damon heard their two heartbeats, throbbing almost in unison. Faster, faster, to make up for the time they wouldn't get together.

Then he felt Ric's tongue against his fangs, and remembered.

The vampire waited another second, and broke the kiss. Alaric kind of growled out of discontent.

Damon loved how he looked, so pleased with himself and with their kiss, so handsome, simply, so perfect. Perfect for him, perfect for them.

Damon frowned.

Why was Ric all bloody?

The vampire licked his own lips, and frowned again.

Here was the answer. Because he had had blood all over his mouth while they had been kissing. Damon might have felt a bit ashamed for thinking Alaric looked downright hot with blood on his face, if the hunter hadn't looked just so damn hot.

"Are you stealing my blood away from my mouth?"

"No idea what you're mumbling about."

Ric grinned a bloody grin and kissed him once more.

Both of their hearts accelerated, but it was only a chaste kiss. Yet, Alaric had taken advantage of the situation and put his hands on Damon's hips, and pulled him closer again, so close they were feeling the curves and angles of each other's body, so close their noses were filled with each other's scent.

So close their bodies tensed as their hearts softened.

The scent was becoming more and more that of sexual need as seconds nudged one another, in a hurry to witness the outcome, to see if they could possibly be extended and delay the fatal hour.

The teacher let him free, and rested the back of his head against the wall.

"I must be a bit drunk."

Damon's heart flinched to this line.

Sure. Ric was drunk. Maybe a bit saddened to know his best friend was dying, troubled by his ex-wife's and his girlfriend's deaths, and now he was acting reckless, without meaning it.

Or worse. Maybe it had begun, Damon was hallucinating. Maybe he was alone in the cell, and all that was him being pitifully unhappy for the short rest of his lifetime.

"I'm pretty sure I'm usually a better kisser than that."

Damon's heart missed a beat.

Maybe...

Maybe there was hope. Maybe this was real.

"You..."

The teached cocked his head to the right.

"I what?"

Damon took a long breath. He couldn't believe he was going to ask that.

"You really meant it? This kiss, this..."

Alaric interrupted him, smirking in amusement.

"You really think I'm the kind of guy who kiss ramdom people the day after his girlfriend's death?"

Put it that way, the question was indeed a bit dull.

"And frankly, Damon, if I had let you do as you please, we'd never gotten to it. I'm aware I was kind of slow noticing how you look at me, but once I did, there was no going back. I truly loved Jenna, I'll always love her, but she is dead, and there is no going back from that. You, on the other hand, are still alive. You obviously love me. And from how I reacted to this kiss that I initiated, since you're so surprisingly useless at confessing for a guy who flirt with anyone from breakfast to dinner, I'm pretty certain you can tell I love you back."

Ignoring the comment about confessing, because there was no need to go and tell Ric about the failed attempt from the other day, Damon's heart jolted in his chest at those words... and he coughed up blood that stained a bit more the hunter's chin and shirt.

"Alive... not for long. You should try to... search for a person who's not actually... dying, when you'll be single again. Which is likely to be very soon."

Alaric closed his eyes. It was no time to think about that. Stefan would find a way. And if he didn't, he would only have to add another mark of doom in his love life. Stefan would find a way.

Stefan would find a way.

He patted Damon's head gently.

Stefan would find a way.

"I'll get you a blood bag."

The vampire sat on the cell bed, nodding absently. This was surreal. Not only Alaric had figured out his feelings for him, but he also had welcomed them.

He was still dying, the pain was still there, but he felt so great, so comfortable...

He didn't want to die anymore.

Damon hadn't really wanted to die in the first place, but as he was convinced he would never get anything else out of his life, and surely not love, he had sort of given up. Or maybe given in.

Voices caught his attention. He knew two of these. Alaric's.

And Liz Forbes'.

As he stood up, his head started to pin, he felt dizzy, and the world betrayed him. It was all a hallucination, certainly, that his infected mind was casting upon him, to make him believe he could have his happy ending. The door to the cell opened, he threw Liz against a wall, because, right, she was merely a hallucination, and ran away. He had to find Ric. The real Ric. Because this one too was a hallucination, he knew that all too well. Damon Salvatore would never get his love back. Never.

Alaric stayed still, guns pointed at him, while a sick Damon rushed out surprising everyone.

Elizabeth Forbes walked out of the cell, holding her head.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?! You're helping a monster to kill innocent people!"

"We already have had this conversation, sheriff. You only don't remember it."


	31. ATOR, part 31: Wait a bit more

_**Okay, two chapters to go, and then, on to the second part! Lucky you, you won't even have to wait for it.**_

* * *

 _Sooo... I'm pretty sure Damon's hallucination is me. How the hell did I end up there?_

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 31: Wait a bit more**

The youngest deputy was shaking a little. That surprised Alaric, but then he remembered his own face was covered in blood. As if he had himself drank some. Which wasn't exactly false. Though it had been accidental. Not his fault if Damon hadn't drunk everything, was it?

Elizabeth Forbes walked through the room to look him in the eyes, but stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the blood. Were they all going to be a pain in the ass because of three tiny drops of blood? The teacher had better things to do. Such as, preventing Damon from killing a bunch of innocent people in his delirious state. Or preventing Damon from attacking random people because he was going rabid. Or even preventing Damon from going on a raving killing spree.

Exactly what he had been doing until now. Right, while kissing, and so what? Had they not interrupted them, everything would have been under control.

"Don't start freaking out now. Damon's sick, he coughed on me, end of story. I'm perfectly human."

And perfectly cursed. And maybe the natural enemy of any police officer. But Alaric wasn't going to say that out loud. They had enough problems without him being in the crosshairs of the sheriff department for being a natural born killer.

The youngest deputy, who wasn't stupid but wasn't patient either, lost, obviously, patience.

"Vampires don't get sick! And if that one wasn't sick, then you must be one too!"

The teacher sighed, starting to get impatient.

"Vampires get deadly sick when they are bitten by a werewolf. And if you're really trying to overawe me, stop trembling already, or I'll just seize the opportunity..."

And that's exactly what he did.

When the youngster tried to get a better hold of his gun, Alaric lunged forward, caught his wrist and forced him to let go of the weapon. At the same time, he spinned on his left heel and placed the deputy between him and his colleagues.

He heard four safeties being undone a short moment after the gun fell on the ground with a loud sound. No choice, then. It wasn't playing nice, but the Falkenbach couldn't really care.

Alaric pushed the young man on the other deputies. They took a step back, their eyes locked on their colleague for a second, which he used to overtake them. By the time they were aware of him being so close and raising their guns again, he had knocked out one of them, and twisted another's wrist. He was strangling him unconscious when the last deputy bypassed his fainted colleague to shot the hunter.

From the angle, Ric could say it wouldn't be a courtesy shot, in the air, in the leg, or anything like that. More likely, straight to the chest, even the heart, if any luck. So he let go of his victim, who fell flat on the floor, and kicked his attacker's arm hard enough to have him let go of his gun. Then he reiterated, but this time, kicked the man in the stomach.

The deputy fell to the ground with a painful growl, leaving only the sheriff and the youngest deputy conscious to do anything. But they were pretty astonished, and needed time to react. Which Alaric wasn't willing to grant them. Quickly, keeping an eye on his opponents, he picked up two of the free guns from the ground where they had fallen, all thanks to him.

"So, what were we talking about? Right, the fact that I'm definitely not a vampire."

Elizabeth Forbes was looking at him with eyes wide open, still not sure of what had happened.

This was the high school history teacher, right? So why was he able to beat three people in a trice?

And she was sure he could have handled her too, if she had been able to do anything more than holding her gun right. Because he was definitely aware she was still shaking on her legs from her unexpected meeting with a wall, only minutes before.

"What the hell are you?!"

Ric slightly turned to take a look at the young deputy, still looking terrorized.

"Is he a rookie?"

"Yes, and so what?"

The teacher rolled his eyes then looked at him with might have been pity if he hadn't been dead serious. Alaric relaxed a bit, because, really, he had no reason to be so tense, and took a step towards the youngster.

"So, you can't go after vampires if you're barely holding it together. What, you can't even go after me, a mere human! Though I'm as dangerous as a human can be, I guess."

The young man was so focused on not letting his eyes wander off from his opponent's eyes, alarmingly blank-though-blue eyes, that he didn't notice the fist until it was too late. He fell unconscious, as the others. Which left only the sheriff to deal with, before going after Damon.

"You really need to train them better, you know."

Elizabeth gulped, but tried to sound confident.

"What are you planning to do, now? Kill us?"

She didn't know if she believed he would or not, but the fact that the man looked at her with only emptiness in his eyes, not even concerned, not the slightest amusement in his gaze, gave her the chills. She'd rather have seen anything in these eyes, even hartred, even madness, even pleasure, if the choice had been hers. She'd have liked it better, even if that had meant they were going to die.

Alaric Saltzman was able to kill them. And he was ready to. Worse, in fact. He didn't care. At all.

Worse than any psychopath. Not even enjoying the killing. Which was terrifying. If she was right, he was more of a monster than any monster, and yet less of a monster than any monster. He was human, but had no soul. Or lacked, at least, a part of it.

Even monsters had souls.

"Do I need to?"

The question was genuine. He already knew the answer. She knew he knew it. She wouldn't answer.

Alaric waited a bit, then decided it was enough. He still had a more-or-less-boyfriend to catch, chain and watch die. Which wasn't to his liking, at all. But what could he do about it?

"Think a little, sheriff. If you are here, then you surely know your daughter is a vampire too. Is she any different? Did the number of bodies went up after she turned? Maybe you know she killed a young man, the first time she went out after her turning. You do? Perfect. She died. She killed a human being. She's not the daughter you knew anymore. Caroline is a bloodsucking monster. Why aren't you killing her instead, sheriff? What are you doing here, sheriff Forbes?"

Elizabeth stiffened. She didn't want to hear. She didn't want to hear that.

"Why aren't you killing your own daughter, sheriff Forbes?"

His voice was so inexpressive, it was so rational, she knew he was right. Why wasn't she killing Caroline, instead of going to kill Damon Salvatore first?

She dropped her gun. Her voice was trembling, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Because she's my beautiful baby daughter."

Alaric put his weapons down. He was enough of a weapon himself, anyway.

He smiled.

"There, you know why. It took less effort than last time."

He dragged the unconscious deputies in the cell, waited for her to enter on her own, and locked the door.

"Take away their vervain. Ask Stefan to erase their memories when he'll come back. We're trying to keep the body count low, but it's not always easy. Oh, and he can erase yours too, or Caroline can do it, like last time, if you want it that way."

Liz didn't even think twice about it. Matt had told her she had already been compelled, but he hadn't said it had been her choice. Maybe it hadn't exactly been. Maybe he didn't know.

"I'll keep my memories. We've seen what happens when I don't. I'll live with it."

She cast a glance over her deputies. This time, they were alive. Maybe they wouldn't next time, if she chose to take the easy way out.

Alaric went away. It was time to go after Damon.

As he arrived in town, he saw Elena and the others, completely panicked. A deputy had seen Damon, tried to shoot him, and Jeremy had taken a bullet. He was with Bonnie, but no one knew if he'd make it.

The teacher bit his lower lip. He had to find Damon. Quickly.

When he finally spotted him, the vampire was alone in a field, not far away from the lively town center, with its constant party going on. Standing feverishly, gazing upon vacancy, talking to himself as if he was actually talking to someone, Damon was definitely delirious.

Who the hell was this girl, and why was she talking to herself in the middle of a battlefield?

The young Confederate Soldier was watching the now deserted battlefield. Deserted? Not so much.

He was there, and he wasn't alone. There was a girl, standing in the middle, not looking at him, at the corpses under her shoes, or at anything, really, only waving about a stick while talking out loud, things about death, about pain, about sacrifice, maybe. He wasn't sure. He couldn't hear her well.

It wasn't the time to idle about. He had to find Katherine. But... he didn't know Katherine, not yet. Still. He had to go. He needed to see Alaric.

...Who was Alaric? It was 1864. He did not know anyone by the name of Alaric.

Yet, he needed to see him. He knew that.

He was about to go, even if he had no idea where to, when he understood what she was saying.

It might have been because she had finally noticed him.

"Give me a blade to cut my head, give me poison to end my life, give me a rope to hang myself. But be it gentle, for I fear pain. May death be soft, or at least quick. I am not known to be reckless, neither I am to be dauntless. My oath is taken: they will comply, and in the end, Sadness will win."

He was going to tell her she didn't make any sense. But he wasn't making any sense either. It was all a hallucination. He had forgotten.

Ric. Where was Ric?

The girl, no, the young woman, maybe, he wasn't certain of anything right now, smiled softly and looked him in the eyes.

"Too much drama, right? But it's more interesting that way."

She smiled one last time, and he felt hands on his arms.

"Don't worry. You'll be happy one day. You only have to wait a bit more."

She disappeared. And he woke up in his bed, bathed in sweat, Alaric lying down next to him.

"What...?!"

Ric smiled poorly.

"Stefan hasn't called back. You're dying. For good."

"You... deserve... better than... me, anyway. I'm the inhumane... monster. You'll... get... over me."

Ric closed his eyes. His smile wasn't a hurt smile, not exactly. He was sad because he wouldn't get to see Damon anymore. Not because the one he loved was dying. Mourning had never been a Saltzman thing.

"Humanity is about feelings. Any kind of feelings."

Damon was humane, even though he wasn't human. Somehow, at least.

Alaric wasn't humane, even though he was human. Somehow, at least.

Damon closed his eyes. He was dying. He knew it, more than he had ever known in the last hours.

Death was coming for him.

Maybe the hunter thought the vampire was already gone. Maybe he believed he was asleep. Eitherway, he left, only saying this. Damon tried to respond, but he couldn't talk loud enough.

"I didn't get to save Jenna. I won't get to save you either. I didn't get to see her die. I won't stay to see you die. Too many blows to my heart, too many wounds in my flesh. I'd want to stay, to take care of the kids. I'll never be able to do so. I'd be of no use if I stayed, carpet-like. So I'm on my way."

"Ric..."

"I'd have loved you, Damon."

The hunter closed the door. That was the end of it.

"I do... love... you, Alaric."

"Well! That was sweet. Not that I care, but good for you, Damon."

Damon might have been startled, if he had been in any state to think. He only understood it was Katherine speaking. What she was doing here, he didn't know. He didn't care. She talked, he didn't understand. She made him drink some blood, which he reluctantly accepted. And then he felt that everything was alright. He wasn't going to die.

"Now, go after him, you fool."

Damon didn't ask why. He went. He had to find Alaric, even if he was still barely standing.

Katherine turned on her heels. She had to leave town as quickly as possible. Half a world wasn't enough distance between Klaus and her.


	32. ATOR, part 32: It wasn't his wish

_Well, if any of you still had doubts, yes, I am the worst._

* * *

 _Obviously, to be continued._

 _In something like... one or two months. 'cause I have exams in less than a month, and I still need to think how the next part will play out exactly. Bye ~~~_

* * *

 ** _Or, obviously not._**

* * *

 **Adjusting to our reality, part 32: It wasn't his wish**

Slow, way too slow.

He was going way too slowly.

Damon might have considered it funny, how a vampire who was supposed to be able to run miles in a heartbeat, was not being able to walk straight after a tiny werewolf's bite. He might have, if only Alaric hadn't said he would leave town soon. If only their relationship wasn't coming to an end right after it had begun, because he had been dying, but was no more. If only his time to get to his now boyfriend wasn't running out as he was wasting time trying to put one foot in the right direction, then doing it again with the other foot.

The cure.

It was real.

Sure, Damon was still feeling dizzy.

Hell, the world was even spinning around him.

But he was alive, and getting better by the minute.

He and Alaric could be together. Both of them were alive, both of them wanted the other one to be with him, both of them loved the other one. They could spend their life together.

Maybe more than one, actually.

Damon shook his head. This talk would have to wait.

What mattered, for now, was to stop Alaric from leaving.

The vampire tripped down, and felt the ground against his nose and cheeks without being able to get back on his feet. The concrete was cold, the road was hard, and he was certain a car could come any moment and crush his head.

Head crushed, no more Damon.

Would be ironic, to die from dizziness and a car accident after surviving the werewolf's poison.

And no fun at all.

The vampire crawled as he could to the pavement, and finally managed to sit up. But he still couldn't walk, he was aware of it. So he waited.

As his mind was becoming clearer, he remembered what Katherine had told him, that he hadn't understood at first. Stefan had sold himself to Klaus to get the cure. And had gone back to his ripper state. Which wasn't a good new.

How came his little brother was always doing what he shouldn't in order to save Damon's life?

Why was everyone hating him, and still doing so that he'd stay around and screw someone's life?

He had to get Stefan back. If not for him, at least for Elena.

And for that, he needed to get Ric back.

Everything would be alright, if Alaric was with him. He would be alright, Stefan would be alright, the kids would be alright. Damon only needed the teacher back, and it would do.

It wasn't easy, but Damon stood up again, and walked to the Mystic Grill. He could do it. He could be in time to stop Ric from leaving everything behind. Or...

...Or he could call him.

Right. Why hadn't he had the idea before? Being dizzy was making him stupid, apparently.

The vampire messily searched for his cellphone, hoping he hadn't left it at home.

There it was. Now, Ric's number. Right here. Calling...

Sitting at the Grill, a suitcase waiting next to him, not much, really, because he could get someone to go and ask for his belongings later, Alaric was drinking his last glass of the town's rotgut, since he was in no mood to have anything nice, when his cellphone buzzed.

He considered ignoring it, but still took a look.

The hunter gnashed his teeth when he saw who was the caller.

It wasn't fun. At all.

And even if it wasn't a prank call, what good would it do if he picked it up?

Hello, Alaric, it's Stefan / Elena / anybody-else-he-really-couldn't-care-much. Just wanted to tell you that... Well, you guessed already, I suppose, but Damon's dead. Sorry to ruin your life once more, and bye, I hope to see you in class next week.

Or maybe this:

Ric, I'm so sorry, but Jeremy died too.

The teacher winced so hard it hurt. Never before a wince had hurt. He didn't even knew it could.

So he left the phone to ring as much as it wanted, and gulped the last sip of terrible alcohol.

A moment before he stood up and left, someone sat down on the bar stool next to him.

The hunter tensed.

"Alaric."

A tear fell from his left eye directly in his glass.

How could he have even thought it would be him?

Damon was dead, dead, or as good as dead. As everyone else. As Jenna. As Isobel. And as a lot of other people he had forgotten, and as a lot of other people he didn't want to think about right now.

When he turned to face the woman that had called his name, the woman he certainly knew, he still had the trail of the tear on his face, but that was all. Maybe he looked a bit tired. But he didn't look sad, grieving or anything.

"Cassandre had warned me you would come for me, Landyn. But I didn't believed you would be here in person."

His aunt was as incredible as ever.

She wasn't exactly beautiful. She wasn't wearing anything flashy. She wasn't tall, she wasn't short either. You could have said she was average. But she clearly wasn't.

Landyn Saltzman wasn't a dashing woman. Still, she was beautiful. Every single thing, in its rightful place. Nose. Eyes. Forehead. Lips. Jaw. Neck. In fact, there was nothing beautiful about her, except her whole being. Just what was needed not to be noticed so much as to fail an assassination.

Freaking Saltzmans.

As always, she was wearing clothes that surely cost an arm and a leg, but weren't so eye-catching.

It wasn't surprising. They were all this way, at the main house.

Alaric frowned. She wasn't alone. He glanced behind her, and sighed.

"And you took Andrea and Othaniell with you. Worried I might not want to go home?"

The two youngsters were Landyn's children, and, unlike their elder sister, they had chosen to stay at the main house, even once responsible adults. As far as Ric was concerned, that made them the exact opposite of responsible adults.

"I know you don't want to come back, and, as much as I'm not pleased with your decision, I intended to respect it. But the police is suddenly interrested in us, and that is not safe for any of us."

"Surely there is a reason for them to dig into our darkest secrets?"

"Frederic is in jail."

Frederic? That was unexpected. He had always been one of the nicest Saltzmans. He would never have chosen to stay with the family. Alaric wasn't even aware that he had already killed someone.

"He was traveling, and was attacked by a mugger in Turkey. He fought back, and guess what happened..."

The teacher could very well imagine. A dead mugger, in a dangerous place. Story of their lifes.

"The seal?"

Landyn stiffened, and looked at him with warry eyes.

"I'm talking about the scar. You know, the thing that prevent us from becoming soulless killers?"

"We managed. But how do you know it's a seal?"

So she had known. For years, probably. And she didn't want the others to know, as she had talked very low.

Not that he cared. He surely didn't know half of the family secrets.

"Let's say I've met all kinds of people lately. And there's surely more to it than Frederic's arrest. I can't do anything about it, and I heard you've already sent people to take care of it."

The trip to Italy that his father and uncle had gone on lately was proof enough. Italy wasn't Turkey, but it was the country where Frederic's father, their cousin, lived for twenty years already.

Landyn lowered her voice while answering. Their family business wasn't exactly something you could talk about lightly at a bar counter.

"A copycat is using Theodoric's modus operandi all over the world."

"Which one?"

"Mobile Maker."

Great. The bloodiest one.

"I guess you want me to investigate?"

"And to erase him."

And to erase him. Of course. Erasing. If ever he decided to change his line of work to become a killer, he'd call himself the Eraser. It would be hilarious.

A door slammed. Ric didn't pay it any attention.

"I won't take "no" as an answer."

Landyn. Always so imperious. Almost sixty. Still dangerous as hell.

Never mind. Alaric had no reason to stay in Mystic Falls. His life had already been shattered.

"And I will comply. The woman I love died yesterday, and the man I might be in love with will die before the morning. Maybe it is time for me to go."

Landyn said nothing about him loving a man. When you're part of a centuries old family of killers, you don't stop to such tiny details as sexual orientation. Nothing could be worse than killing without feelings. They all knew that. No one cared about who they loved, as long as the lover wasn't a threat to the family. Ric snorted. Damon, a threat upon a family of killers? Hilarious.

He stood up, paid for his drinks, and took his suitcase.

"Shall we go? I don't really care about anything right now, so you might as well want to take the opportunity to lecture me about my decision to stay away from our damned family..."

"You were one of the best, Alaric. You could have done so much. Yet you chose not to. How can I overlook that?"

The hunter rolled his eyes. Yes, he had been one of the best. He still was.

And she knew it. Not only his mind hadn't changed at all during those years he had been away, but he had obviously gone back to training. This much musculature, this much strength, couldn't be due to a daily, normal life. She said nothing, but both of them knew something had happened, when Isobel had gone missing. They knew he had gone back to using his abilities. Maybe she didn't know who he had been killing, or what exactly, but she knew he wasn't any different than the other Saltzmans.

A killer in a bunch of killers, basically.

When they finally left, Alaric met Galswinthe's eyes. Their ancestor had heard everything, sitting in a corner of the Mystic Grill. She was obviously sad.

When Damon entered the Grill, he searched for Alaric.

Elena, Jeremy, the other kids were all here.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes, and even hugged him, which was unheard of. She was so glad he was alive. Even Caroline was a bit relieved.

But Ric wasn't here.

And he wasn't the only one to have noticed. Elena, when she let go of him, looked around.

"Somebody knows where Ric is?"

Damon tensed. A hand touched his shoulder.

He turned around. Saw Gal. Shooed the kids away.

The older vampire ordered them a drink. She wanted to talk to him, and asked him not to interrupt.

"I understood things has evolved between you two? It's good, really. A Falkenbach knows nothing about death, they're immune to it. It also means they can't mourn or grieve. He won't ever be all right if he's alone, now that his girlfriend is dead. It was already the same with Isobel. So, you only can help him. Alaric needs you. Now. But he believes you are dead. And he went back to Boston. He went back to the family. You have to get him back, if you really love him."

Damon understood what it meant. Ric was gone. And...

He tried to call the teacher once more. Grew pale when a cellphone buzzed next to them, on the bar counter. Left behind by a man who wanted to get rid of his life.

Somewhere else, Landyn, two of her children and Alaric were silently looking at a grave.

"It smells like burnt flesh."

"Isobel burnt here not long ago, that's why."

No one said anything.

Now that he had come here, the hunter could leave. It wasn't his wish. But he needed to.


	33. EAM, part 1: If only

**_Yeah, so, here is the second part of this story, "Each a monster". Unlike "Adjusting to our reality", it's still in progress. For now, there are 22 chapters out of 39 written. I'll post up to the eight one today. Enjoy._**

* * *

 _Alaric and Damon finally knew they loved each other. Alaric was alive. Damon was alive. Great. Everything should be perfect, and happily ever after, though Damon was a bit of a psychotic vampire and Alaric was somewhat cursed as the rest of his family. But. Because there's a but. No fun if there's no but. But Stefan was somewhere off with Klaus, Elena was sad, stuff and shit happened as always in Mystic Falls, and, worst of all, Alaric believed Damon to be dead and ran off to his family, or, more accurately, his family came to pick him up and ask him to "erase" somebody._  
 _What could go wrong, now?_

* * *

 _"Each a ghost, and awe-stricken at the other ghost!", Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter_

 _So, back to business. My exams are almost over, I'm done ( not ) studying, and I filled my head with Death Eaters and the Dark Arts, so I'll try not to have Sirius popping in this story, I promise._

 _Missed me?_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 1: If only**

Alaric walked into the main house to find two detectives talking with one of his second cousins.

The house was an old and noble three floors building on the outskirts of Boston. The front door of dark wood opened on a hall with two grandeur staircases leading to the first floor.

It had been so long since Ric had come here, he had almost forgotten how bloody pretentious it was. He was sure Damon would have loved it.

More importantly, Landyn hadn't lied. The police was really becoming aware of them, though they surely weren't expecting... well, that everybody living in this house, save the ones who had married into the Saltzman Family, was or would be a killer at some point.

"Detectives. I didn't think I would have the pleasure to see you today."

They told her the murder in Wilmington wasn't Mobile Maker's, the autopsie was clear about that, and the young man witnessed on the crime scene had probably nothing to do with the famous serial killer, though he might have been ivolved in this particularly violent murder.

Alaric watched as her aunt was freaking the detectives out being perfectly civil and yet ominously formidable. He would have smirked if he hadn't been back here, in the house he had sworn to never come back to. He would have smirked if he hadn't been part of the said family and hadn't been here because his aunt wanted him to kill a copycat. He would have smirked if Damon hadn't been dead, as was Jenna, as was Isobel. Yes, it might have been funny if he had actually cared.

His cousin, still standing next to the detectives, glanced at the door when Andrea shut it close. His eyes squinted when he noticed who was next to Othaniell and his sister. A look of disbelief ran through his features.

A door opened on the second floor.

Another one of the bloody Saltzmans. Another one of his own people.

How many were living here now? Ten? Twenty? Maybe more, surely more, since Landyn had called for everyone. By now, most of the family was surely home. How many adults, exactly? He couldn't remember very well, after all, some of his younger cousins were surely grown up now. Something like... thirty-eight people, kids aside?

Doors were opening on every floor, and he caught a glare from Cassandre, up there, standing on the second stairs next to her brother.

For a second, Alaric wished someone could be with him. But the important "someone" couldn't, because "someone" was dead. So the hunter wished it away.

Damon wouldn't come back from the dead because he wished so. Not this time.

Ric noticed the place had become silent, and everyone, detectives included, was looking at him. The facial expressions were diverse. Shock. Glee. Scorn. Amongst others.

It didn't matter, really.

"What are you looking at? Some of you forgot I'm part of this goddamn family too, or are you only waiting for bugs to fly into your mouths?"

Whispers were heard, but no one actually dared to say anything.

Alaric was the one Landyn had given the task. Alaric was as dangerous as anyone else here. In fact, Alaric was more than that, because he was Alaric, and Alaric was one of the best, or worst, eitherway, Saltzmans living. He was propably stronger than most of his relatives.

And they knew it, as they had known that he hadn't lost his edge, or at least had regained it since then, with only one glance.

It didn't matter that they didn't like his choices. He was here, the strongest, and the place was silent.

"Alaric, come here, we need to talk. Meet detectives... Dawson and Granger, right? I'm sorry I couldn't help you more... with everything the police does to keep us safe."

The detectives left as soon as they could, a bit bewildered.

Ric sighed, and went along as Landyn asked him and a few other to come into her office, just opposite to the front door, between the two staircases.

He sat down in a comfy armchair and waited.

The room was darker than he remembered. Maybe his aunt had had the curtains changed.

Janice, who was his father's cousin, and her brother Archibald took the seats on his right, while Theodoric and Archibald's son Galfrid sat on his left. Landyn, already sitting in her own armchair behind a rather impressive desk, stayed silent and looked at the five Saltzmans in front of her.

The hunter wasn't impressed. It was an usual way to behave for the main house.

Creepily.

After a short while, during which no one had dared to speak, or, maybe, cared to speak, Landyn locked her gaze on Theodoric.

"Someone made a mistake."

Everybody reacted the same way and allowed themselves to glare at Theo.

Ric was simply curious, if a bit disguted with the wording. A mistake, really? He had made a mistake when he had married Isobel. Theodoric was a freaking hitman. That wasn't a mistake.

He turned his head a little to look at his cousin.

Theodoric was a splendid young man, twenty-seven years old, dark hair, same length as his sister's, but brown eyes. He was also as conceited as a man could be, and didn't seem the least ashamed with the criticism. Sure, there was a problem, but it certainly wasn't his fault, was it?

Since when had he lost an eye? Alaric wondered when he realized the long hair hidding half of the young man's face wasn't a fashion trend, and that the piece of black cloth was actually an eye patch.

Not that he cared. Theo had surely deserved it.

How many people had he murdered for money in nine years? Dozens? Hundreds?

The hunter tried not to grumble at the thought. He couldn't do anything about it without revealing to the world that the Saltzmans were a bunch of programmed killers. And even though it was the truth, some of them, himself included he hoped, were actually decent guys who didn't deserve to be killed as a threat or used as experiments in order to discover if a killing gene was available for the army or whatever.

Well, he could still kill Theodoric.

But that would be a bit troublesome, with the family and the authorities and well, the young man was still his cousin. A shame, really. But family, and all. Don't go off murdering your family, it never ends well. Stefan could give evidence, actually, with the whole ripper thing.

Alaric got the thought of the youngest Salvatore out of his head before the oldest tagged along.

"I understand you want my help with this... mistake?"

"Indeed, Alaric. And despite our best efforts, we were unable to track down the copycat. We'll get him eventually, but I'd like it to end as soon as possible. I don't like having officials coming in and out as they wish for an investigation that someone from this family caused."

So she recognised Ric was supposedly the best suited for the job.

The hunter glanced at Theodoric, stiff as a board and apparently a bit annoyed with their aunt for blaming him. As if he had nothing to do with that.

"Do you have the crime scenes' photographs and the police reports for each murder?"

Landyn handed him a file. Alaric began going through it, still asking questions here and there.

"This one is little Theo's, this one too, but not this one, right?"

The police detectives on the case had believed it was the same culprit and called for the FBI, but the copycat who used the serial killer Mobile Maker as a cover had made a mistake the police couldn't possibly notice, not before some more years of investigation.

The thing was that Mobile Maker wasn't a serial killer. He was one of the aliases Theodoric used to disguise his assassinations. A hitman, and seven serial killers, each known across the world. Only the employer knew that the murder wasn't the work of a serial killer but of the man he had hired. And Mobile Maker, Black Player, Lady Chance and the four others were all Theodoric, yet no one had ever thought of a possible connection between their killings.

And with that in mind, Alaric could very simply distinguish the copycat and his cousin.

For eight of the lastest murders, the motives didn't add up with a hitman, even if it usually was correct from the police point of view. Besides, Mobile Maker's killing rate had gone way above the reasonable during the last year. Theodoric would never have used the same alias so frequently.

"He did a good job with the dismemberment, I must say. It really looks like your work."

Which wasn't exactly a compliment for neither of the killers, the original or the copycat.

What kind of barbarian dismembered his victim before drilling the bones and stringing up the body parts in a dark alley?

Some psychotic copycat, apparently, and a very conscientious hitman willing to hide his felony behind the acts of said barbarian. Who was the more disturbing killer, Alaric didn't know. You had to be mad crazy to do such a thing, and enjoy it. The copycat was disturbing, yes. But thinking that Theodoric got no satisfaction or pleasure, being a Saltzman, doing it and yet went to the trouble of blood everywhere and body parts and desecrating even more the body, was as disturbing.

And thinking that he would have to do the same with the freaking copycat's corpse once he'd have found out where the bastard intended to strike next was really disturbing too.

Not that he cared. His name was Alaric Saltzman. Death wasn't an issue for him.

A face, ice-blue eyes, long lashes, raven black hair came to his mind.

Correction. Death wasn't an issue as long as it wasn't the death of someone he cared for.

"Anything else?"

"He uses a three deaths pattern, when Theodoric doesn't. No need for additional victims if there is no money to make. Two were already announced in Philadelphia, so you should hurry. He's likely to act again next week."

Alaric looked at Janice. It had been years since he hadn't seen her. He couldn't really say he had missed her hoarse voice and her pragmatic idea of contract killing.

The hunter sighed, closed the file and headed out. Landyn was apparently done with the session, so he could just leave, kill a shitty serial killer hiding behind the name of a fake serial killer, come back, take a random chamber, and sleep his misfortune in love till the end of his life.

A second before he pushed the door, Theodoric talked.

Ric gnashed his teeth. So much smugness from his hitman of a cousin was definitely insufferable. One of those days, they'd have a match and Theo would have his ass handed to him.

"You couldn't even find the guy who killed your wife, and you'd want me to believe you can find this copycat? My copycat?"

The young man was obviously pissed for not being the one to greet the usurper, but that was no reason to provoke Alaric into breaking his nose with a punch. He had done it before, he could do it again. Theodoric was good, no doubt, he was even great at fighting if compared with the human level fighters, but amongst the family, he wasn't the strongest. Only one of the worst ones.

Ric sneered, but didn't turn around, still looking at the door panel in front of him.

Who had been killing freaking vampires during the last months? Who had always been better than the kid, even taking into account the four years age gap between them?

And hell, Isobel and Damon weren't the kid's business.

"I found him."

"You did?"

Theo sounded taken aback, and Alaric was pretty sure Archibald and Janice had begun to whisper.

"He's dead."

"You killed him?"

If only. If only he had killed Damon that first time, or if he had left Mystic Falls as soon as Isobel had turned up and made herself clear about their shitty wedding.

He surely wouldn't be in this state now. Not caring about anything, not even about being given the task to dismember a fake real serial killer by his aunt, or about the fact that he wasn't affected.

"He hadn't actually killed her, so I didn't. Instead, I fell in love with him. And then he died."

Roc wasn't going to let them say anything. He went out of the office, slammed the door, made his way to the front door as the entrance was crowded with unhealthily curious family members and left.

He had a killer to kill.

And a phone call to make to Elena. He couldn't ignore what he had overheard from the detectives as they had left the house earlier. The suspect they talked about seemed to look a lot like Stefan.

 _"Ric, are you alright?"_

"No. But you need to know I just heard of a crime scene, most likely Stefan's. I'll send you the location in an email."

 _"Wait, Alaric, about Damon, he..."_

Alaric hung up.


	34. EAM, part 2: His own head was filled wit

_Restless Damon is restless._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 2: His own head was filled with one man only**

Damon was brushing his teeth when he heard Elena, who was more of less babysitting him, say a name that made his heart beat faster. He dropped the toothbrush and blurred to the living room.

"Alaric called?!"

The teenager silently nodded, still glaring at her cellphone as if it was responsible for everything.

"He didn't even let me say one word and hung up. But he said he had heard about Ste..."

Elena stopped talking as she looked up. She stared at Damon for a long time as he started repining and pacing all around the place.. He had foamy toothpaste dropping out of the right corner of his mouth, that sometimes made bubbles when he spoke, but he didn't seem to care at all.

Or maybe he wasn't aware of it.

It made sense, after all, that vampires would brush their teeth as anyone else. Going around with dried blood between their teeth would have been highly suspicious.

But still. Damon Salvatore was fidgeting in his living room with foam dripping slowly from his chin to the floor.

Maybe this was a dream.

"Damon?"

The vampire stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her. A white bubble of toothpaste blew up with a dicreet pop. He wiped it but still looked like he had more important stuff to deal with, important enough for him not to notice how ridiculous he was.

Elena was going to ask what it was about when he made his mind.

"I'm going after him. I'll be back... someday."

"What? No!"

Damon frowned and evaded her attempt to seize his arm.

"I'm going. Besides, Jenna made him your legal guardian but he left before anyone could warn him and he has no idea about it. I'm going, I'll find him, and I'll take him back."

For everyone. Not only for himself, but for the kids, for Elena, for Jeremy, too.

For everyone. Not only for the kids, for Elena, for Jeremy, but for himself, too.

Elena sighed, and tried another approach.

"I'm worried about you, Damon. You are the first vampire in history to survive a werewolf's bite, and it took you hours to be healthy again. I'm not sure one single day will be enough for you to recover, and what if there are side effects? We're definitely not trusting Klaus' word that all you need is his blood."

The vampire rolled his eyes and walked to the door.

"And if he lied or even just didn't know what he wasn't talking about and I have side effects, what will you do? Worry all over me? Seriously, Elena, you can't do much about it because you're only a human, I can't do much about it because if that happen I will be the one unable to do anything, Bonnie can't do much about it because as powerful as she is she has little knowledge, so I might as well go and search for Ric. If promise I'll phone you if I start dying again."

And without saying anything else, he raced to his car.

He had lived the last hours in fits, his mind going from one extrem to the other. He had hated Alaric for leaving, he had decided he wouldn't care anymore, then he had cried himself dry in his bed, insulted Ric though the man was not present, for that exact reason too, that he wasn't present, he had loved Alaric enough to know he had to find a way to get him back if he didn't want to go ballistic once again.

For a time he had been compliant with Elena's wish to keep him under observation. To be frank, being falsely unable to act had been a relief, it had given him an excuse not to go after Ric right away and instead dwell in his own misery.

But shit.

Damon realized he could ask Andie for help before leaving. She could certainly find one or two thing about the Saltzmans' current position in society through her acquaintances as a journalist. Sure, Andie wasn't a top five journalist, but she knew some people who were, and it couldn't hurt to know a bit more than what Gal had told him.

Galswinthe had been a great source of informations, of course. She had kept in touch with her family for centuries, but she had some issues understanding the latest economic and political landscape. And she couldn't come too close to the Saltzmans without it being obvious that something was wrong with her. So yes, she knew everyone in the family, some of them better than others, but that was all.

And she had confessed she had to stay in Mystic Falls in case her loony husband decided to take a trip here, searching for Klaus. Damon hadn't said anything about said husband being alive, as he had stayed silent about said husband being barmy. He had guessed said husband was dead, but if he was nuts, the story was still working fine.

Maybe he should be a bit more concerned about a crazy seven hundreds years old vampire coming to town, but for now, his mind was clouded with Alaric's absence.

And the Badass Team would do a better job dealing with the nutter if it was actually a team.

So, he had to find the hunter, that was it.

Or, well, he could simply admit he missed Ric, he wanted Ric, he needed Ric.

No one was spying on his thoughts, after all. No need to act though guy even in his own head.

So, determined to talk to Andie, even if she might have to work this day, Damon headed to her place. He'd wait here till the night if he had to.

Luckily, after twelve minutes of pleasant pacing and fidgeting, the young journalist came home. Surprised to found her distressed friend, well, distressed, she raised an eyebrow and let him in.

Damon felt strangely happy when she did.

She knew she didn't have to.

She knew what it meant to invite in a vampire.

Yet she had.

"Can you tell me anything about a family living mostly in Boston, the Saltzmans?"

Andie blinked, unsure of what to make of the situation.

"I can ask a friend who lives there, but... isn't that Alaric's family?"

She asked no more question when she saw Damon's reaction.

What she managed to find out was interesting, to say the least.

The Saltzman Family was... incredibly rich and important and unsuspected considering its secret history. Even knowing about them was incredible, as they were amazingly discreet for such a powerful and frightening family.

"What are you going to do?"

Andie seemed really concerned. She hadn't seen her friend so restless since a long time.

Actually, since their talk in his bedroom, when she had understood what the vampire felt for his best friend.

Damon looked away for a while, then finally got the cat out of the bag.

"I... confessed."

Andie was pleased, but she knew there was more to it. If not, then why was Damon looking so lost?

"And?"

"He accepted me."

Well, that was one way to say it. Very... cautious. Something had gone wrong, obviously, but the journalist couldn't guess what. After all, if the two men had come to terms with their feelings for each other, why weren't they busy, together, somewhere, doing stuff that had her blushing only thinking about it?

Because yeah, Damon was so not the kind of guy who would let his new found lover get away without doing the actual thing during their first date once.

Or twice.

Or the whole night.

Damon looked embarassed. Which wasn't usual for him.

He almost blurted out the rest of the story under her stubborn gaze.

"And I kind of almost died and he thought I was dead and he left and he won't take my calls and I have to find him and I love him so much I can't even think straight right now no pun intended."

Andie was going to tell him to calm down, that it was alright, but the vampire became paler.

"A call. Right. He called Elena. So his new number should be in her phone."

Damon was pretty much in the middle of the street, rushing to his car, when he thought better and searched for the mirror in which Rose was trapped.

He wasn't exactly sure why he believed Andie could be in danger anytime soon, but it couldn't hurt to give it to her. With some luck, the spell on the compact mirror hadn't been a one-time-thing, and it would still work if the journalist was in any mortal danger. Andie lived in Mystic Falls, and knew about the supernatural side of the world. There were so many reasons for her to get involved in some vampires or witches' business, and Damon wouldn't be here to protect her if anything happened.

It'd be for the best if he gave her the mirror.

And frankly, the vampire wouldn't have been able to bear the presence of another person in his car while going after Ric, even if the person was trapped in a mirror and couldn't talk to him or anything.

So he went back, gave it to Andie, compelled her to have it all the time with her, and rushed to his car once again, before heading to the boarding house where he hoped to find Elena.

Truthfully, he hoped he wouldn't see Elena, who was too eager to have him grounded. But he hoped to snatch away her cellphone without her noticing. Which shouldn't be so difficult.

Unless she was glued to her phone, talking to whoever she was sharing her anxiety about Damon, with the whole argument about how-she-had-no-idea-what-had-gotten-into-him-but-she-feared-he-might-do-something-harsh-and-what-do-you-mean-Damon-is-a-murderous-ass-anyway-?.

The vampire mused about the identity of her interlocuter. He was too far away to pick up anything more than an irritated mumbling. Surely Bonnie or Caroline.

Eitherway, not his business.

The vampire didn't mean to sound awful, but he had his own problems to deal with. He knew Elena had been having a terrible life lately, and who could blame her for being devastated and searching for solace after all the people who had died? but his own head was filled with one man only.

After one long hour and a half of the girls' chatting, Damon was ready to jump from the roof to put an end to his torment. He remembered nearly too late that it wasn't going to happen, and throwing himself from the roof would only result in great pain and Elena coming and deciding he was to be restrained before he tried another attempt to his life and well-being.

When she finally let go of her cellphone, and the world knew how long he had wished for that moment, Damon came in carefully. Elena had left her phone on the couch and was somewhere else, luckily. The vampire listened to her pacing, first floor apparently, and took a look at the incoming calls.

Damon searched and searched and searched for the right hour, but all he could fine was...

Hell! Why had Alaric decided to withhold his new phone number?

The vampire winced.

Because the hunter wanted nothing to do with Mystic Falls anymore.

Hopefully, he'd still want them to be happy together, once he'd know Damon wasn't dead-dead yet.

Oh please let it be that way.

The vampire heard footsteps coming this way and run out as fast as he could, so pretty fast, before Elena could get a glimpse of his presence in the house.

He wasn't sure being tied down to a bed with daily vervain infusions to keep him under control until no one had any doubt that he wouldn't go rabid and off half the city because of some weird side effects left was the best way to get his boyfriend back.

More like, he was certain it wasn't the way to have Alaric back at all.

And he needed Alaric, that he knew for sure.

And Alaric needed him, that being a fair assumption from him but backed up with what Gal had said about Falkenbachs and Saltzmans and coping with grief.

Damon got in his blue Camaro, still not certain whether he was anxious or delighted.

He'd have Alaric Saltzman, everybody could be assured of that.

He'd do anything for the two of them being together.


	35. EAM, part 3: Slightly sorry smile

_Damon, you're so cute... erm, sexy, I meant._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 3: Slightly sorry smile**

The blue Camaro stopped on the side of the road, in front of a suburban house with light brown walls and neatly trimmed lawn. The street was silent, a bit too much, even, but it wasn't all that surprising. It was early in the morning, so most children were surely sleeping, and adults didn't make so much noise in these neighborhoods.

Damon smirked as he got out of his car. Everything here screamed of blatant normality and boring lives. He'd never have guessed a man with abnormal abilities in killing would live in such a place.

For a second, he wondered if he hadn't got the address wrong.

But no, the name on the mailbox was really Saltzman.

Edward and Diane Saltzman.

The vampire went for the front door, but when he saw the doorbell button, he froze.

Was he really going to meet Alaric's parents? Like, right now? Alaric's parents? The two very people in the whole world who could say something about his yet non-existent relationship with Ric and who were pretty likely not to approve of them if they knew what he really was?

Damon forced himself to stop fidgetting and reached for the doorbell.

The doomed sound of his own judgment day gave him the chills. It was like he couldn't hear anything else in the world than what was going on in Alaric's childhood home at that exact time.

Nothing, really, nothing else mattered.

A woman, probably Ric's mother, said something, and the vampire heard footsteps coming.

The door opened, and Damon stiffened.

The woman was definitely charming, if not downright beautiful. In her early fifties, she seemed really nice, and Ric's hair were definitely hers. Her large brown eyes were dotted with what looked like orange sparkles, and a lot of sweetness. Her smile widened when her gaze met his, though Damon had no idea why.

"Are you looking for someone who lives around here, young man?"

The vampire didn't answer, too mesmerized with the sound of her voice, feminine, soft, peaceful, yet a lot like the hunter's, calming, confident, protective. When he heard that voice, so close and yet so different from Alaric's, his heart missed a beat. Every single one of his certitudes collapsed. Not that he had so many certitudes, but... He had been so sure he could hold on until he'd find Ric.

Now... he couldn't even speak properly.

"Erm... I'm... for Ric. He said he... home."

Diane Saltzman frowned, but she didn't seem bothered by his uncalled for stuttering.

"Alaric is coming home? Funny, that, no one told me anything. I guess he's not here yet."

"Then, maybe I should come back later. Thank you, Mrs Sal..."

"Oh, no, come in, come in. You came all the way here to see my son, and he's not even here to greet you. I shall at least offer you something to drink. And please, call me Diane."

Damon hesitated, but decided to do so.

It hadn't been his intention to be invited in, but since he had been, he couldn't change anything about that. He figured it would be a bit rude to bluntly reject the invitation when Ric' mother was being so nice and he had already disturbed her morning, so...

And it wasn't as if he would ever dare to think to drain Alaric Saltzman's mother, so coming in wasn't dangerous for anyone.

Damon tried to imagine what the hunter would do to him if he ended up killing his mother. The ideas that came to his mind were definitely not made for him to try. What reasons would he have to do that, anyway?

"What do you want to drink? Or..."

Diane looked at him. The poor young lad seemed really tired. Had he been driving all night?

"Maybe I could get you something to eat. After what, you'd get some sleep in the guest room. You seem exhausted."

Damon wasn't going to say it was due to a werewolf bite, but yes, he wasn't feeling as well as he should have. Maybe Elena was right, maybe it hadn't ended yet.

But he was right too. Even if there were side effects, none of them could do anything about it, so he might as well search for Ric. The only thing was that he hoped he wasn't going to get rabid once more and try to murder Alaric's parents.

It wouldn't be the best first meeting ever if he did, and the hunter would surely hunt him down up till the end of his life. Or the end of Damon's life, for the two of them were tremendously dangerous, if not in the same way.

"A glass of water, then. But I might take your offer to sleep a moment."

"A glass of water it is. My husband will surely return before noon, maybe he will be able to tell us something about Alaric. Most of the Saltzmans have been called by the head of the family, in fact."

"The head of the family?"

So the Saltzmans were this kind of powerful family.

Yes, it made sense, with what Ric had told him.

Diane came back with a glass of water, and gave it to him before answering.

"I guess Ric hasn't said anything about his father's family?"

Damon shrugged, swallowing his drink cautiously.

Everything about this place was making him more aware of himself, as if he was seeing a part of Ric that he wasn't supposed to see. Not yet, at least. The pictures on the walls, the silence in the house, Diane's slightly sorry smile, it all had a hint of Alaric, though he hadn't lived here for years.

"He talked little about them, but he actually said one or two things to me."

As he said that, he realized how big a new it was.

Alaric had actually talked about his little family problem with someone else. He hadn't even told Isobel. And even if Diane couldn't know what he had told him exactly, even if she had no idea that the hunter had given away his true nature to Damon, it was obvious she would figure out Alaric had been strangely honest with him.

The vampire finished his drink, and stood up.

"I might need a few hours of sleep, actually. Your offer still stands?"

He tried to ignore the calculating look that had invaded the woman's features as she walked him upstairs. He really ought to be a bit more careful with his words.

"It's Alaric's old room. The window in the guest room has been broken with a rock, surely some teenagers, yesterday, and we're waiting for someone to fix it. Sorry for that."

Damon gulped as soon as Diane was back in the kitchen, downstairs, where she couldn't see him.

Had she decided to let him sleep in Ric's room on purpose? Was the window in the other room really broken? Diane had no reason to test him that way, but still, Damon was freaked out. Maybe she had her suspicions. Maybe she knew there was something between her son and the stranger that hadn't been told. Maybe she...

As if.

The vampire was definitely growing paranoid, if he seriously thought that someone as kind as Diane Saltzman would deceive him and lead him into some kind of trap because she might have a doubt about him. And, really, what kind of trap could you come up with in a bedroom?

Damon eyed the grey lampshade hanging from the ceiling, upon the bed, as if it was going to fall on him during his sleep.

Then he sat, alone, on the bed.

Alaric's bedroom.

The room had been cleared of almost any personal belongings when Alaric had moved out of town, but there were three boxes left on the shelf next to the window, and a few books as well.

Damon wouldn't remember how it happened, but what he knew, was that he woke up nearly two hours later, snuggled into the sheets that weren't even Ric's, since the hunter had left the house years before.

He hastily got on his feet and made up the bed, a bit embarassed, hoping Diane hadn't come to see how he was doing while he was asleep.

And then he didn't knew what to do anymore. Even if it seemed the right thing to do, he wouldn't go down and look for Ric's mother, too ashamed to face her. He wasn't going to sit back on the bed, only staring at it was already this awkward. So he stayed still, standing in the middle of the room.

After two or three minutes, however, his eyes wandered through the furnitures, and he found himself glaring at a cardboard box that wasn't correctly closed. Why was he glaring, he didn't know, but he felt like this was important. Maybe he had developed a sixth sense concerning any Alaricish issue. Which was, obviously, the dumbest thing he had ever thought of.

It took him exactly twenty-two seconds to decide that he absolutely needed to see what was in the box. With some luck, it would be pictures of Ric as a child. Or even notes about some school classes written by Alaric, he didn't really care as long as it was something related to the hunter.

Here he was, acting like a stalker once again.

Maybe he was one, he thought as he listened to Diane's humming on the ground floor. No danger this way, he could stalk Alaric's shadow around without feeling guilty or fearing that his mother would walk in and see... Damon acting like a stalker of some sort.

So, no danger for now.

The vampire opened the box.

He was a bit desappointed to see it was full of letters, none of them with Ric's handwritting. Which was pretty logical, after all, the one who sends a letter is not likely to be the one who receives it.

Damon had to give in and acknowledge it: love was making him stupid.

He took a letter at random and read it.

It wasn't quite what he had expected.

Not that he had expected anything in particular.

But still.

 _We know you did it._

 _Killer._

 _Why would you be hiding at your house if it wasn't you, Saltzman?_

 _You sick killer._

 _Don't ever come to school again._

Damon stopped reading after the tenth one.

He guessed it was from the time after the killing at the bank.

Anger rose in his heart, a sharp feeling, similar to hatred and yet more visceral, something almost feral, actually, as he thought of everything Ric had had to go through. The vampire clenched his fists, the letter in his left hand rustled as he crushed it, and his knuckles went white.

He had this sudden urge to find out whoever had written these letters and tear them apart, one after another. They'd see what a real monster was.

Damon took a deep breath.

He couldn't do that.

The vampire was putting the letters back in order when he saw one that had never been opened. Curious, and at the same time afraid of what he would read in it, he decided it was worth it. At least, if it succeeded in making him angrier than ever, he would forget about his falling asleep and snuggling the bed sheets.

A sad smile took over his face. Why had Alaric never opened this letter?

It would make anyone feel better, and yet it was so simple. Earnest, too.

 _We understand that you won't tell us your name, but thank you. Thank you very much, for saving our child from that monster. Whatever people will say about you killing him, you know there are at least three persons in this world that will never wish that you never did it. If you hadn't, our only child would be dead. We can only thank you this much._

The front door opened, and Damon heard the voice of a man coming in. He put the box back on the shelf, but kept the letter. Alaric needed to see this.

Diane called for him, so he rushed, but at human speed, downstairs.

The man was definitely Ric's father. Tall enough, ash blond hair, bleu eyes, past fifty years old but in great health, totally able to fight against anyone who'd go after him, and they had the same jaw.

The vampire banished the thought that they also had the same neck from his mind.

"Edward Saltzman. I believe you're here for my son?"

There was something alarming in his gaze, as if he knew something that wouldn't make any of them happy.


	36. EAM, part 4: You are dead

_So, Damon had us waiting for a long time before becoming aware of his feelings, confessing and confessing again, now it's Ric being utterly convinced Damon's dead and running away as fast as he can, and how long will I go on delaying the inevitable?_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 4: You are dead**

"Dear, did something happen? You don't look well."

Ed Saltzman took a seat and tried to make sense of what had happened the day before. He had tried to do so for hours, he had barely slept, and he still couldn't.

"Ric came back, and Landyn gave him something to do. And, you know, our son being our son, I thought he would at least say no and leave slamming the door. But he said yes, and when our eyes met, it was as if he couldn't see me. Everything seemed so... off, I had to ask my sister what it was about. Hell, Diane, Landyn asked him to ki..."

At that exact moment, Edward remembered the stranger in his house, sitting awkwardly where his wife had told him to, and listening to everything that was said.

The man looked up and observed carefully the young man with raven hair and ice-blue eyes.

Edward Saltzman wasn't a fool. On top of that, he was a Saltzman.

If other people might have overlooked it, Ed couldn't simply forget to notice how the young man had reacted to his sister's name. He couldn't not see how this stranger's body was that of a fighter, of a soldier, even. Just the right amount of muscles, not like those certainly strong bodybuilders who were most of the time very slow and unable to control their raw power. A stance that was that of a man discreetly vigilant, yet self-confident.

And at the same time, this stranger seemed to be bothered with something.

"What is your name, again?"

The stranger looked at him with wide eyes.

Damon hadn't even noticed he had never introduced himself.

"I'm sorry, I think I didn't... I can't believe it. Well, I'm Damon Salvatore. I... know your son from his last job, in Mystic Falls."

The vampire was certain that Ric's father had understood it was only a half-truth, but Edward didn't seem to mind too much about it, so he thought it would do for the time being. But if he wanted to hear more about Alaric, maybe he'd better make it clear that he knew about... some particular circumstances. He really had to hear about where the hunter had been sent to, after all.

"Look, I don't want to sound suspicious, but I know about your family... history. You're not the only ones in this world to suffer from special issues, and I too am a bit... peculiar. Alaric has met a lot of different people, recently, and he has become aware of his own situation being an actual curse. But then, the woman he loved died, and after that I nearly died, and us being best friends, he took it to heart and left thinking everyone was better off this way. I really... want him to know I'm still alive, and that the kids he had grown fond of are all right too. Besides, Jenna asked for him to be their guardian, but he still doesn't know, so... Here I am."

Damon had said all that in a rush, not sure of it being the right way to do it, but he had to say it, and he definitely feared to say something wrong and being thrown out of the house for whatever the reason. They surely had many reasons to throw him out.

Ed et Diane exchanged a perplexed look, obviously wary of him now.

"If I sum it up right, you're our son's best friend, his girlfriend died, he ran away, but he's supposed to be the legal guardian of her children now and that's why you're here? And you know that every Saltzman who lived has at some point of their life killed someone? And you yourself are some kind of cursed man too?"

Damon nodded, well aware of the absurdity of the situation, and handed them a picture of Alaric with Jenna and the kids. He felt a twinge when he saw how happy Ric looked on this.

"The only thing is that Elena and Jeremy aren't Jenna's children, but her niece and nephew, because their own parents died in a car accident. Also, Elena is actually Alaric's ex-wife, Isobel's, daughter, so he's kind of her stepfather anyway."

Diane seemed to think all this mess was highly amusing, and restrained a small laugh. The line on her husband's forehead had become more accentuated than ever.

Ed took a moment to think.

The only question he asked was not what anybody in the room would have fathomed.

"I'll ask only this: he's not the one who killed his girlfriend, is he?"

Damon stayed dumbfounded, mouth wide open, for at least ten seconds, trying to imagine a scenario in which Ric killed Jenna, and the scene was becoming more and more absurd as time passed.

Finally, his mouth went back to a normal, shut state.

"Alaric would never have killed Jenna, he loved her way too much!"

Edward cocked his head to the left, thinking about something Landyn had told him after Ric's departure. This young man, with his good looks and his strangeness that the Saltzman father could sense directly in his guts, looked genuinely outraged with the idea of Alaric being responsible of his lover's death.

It told him two things.

First, his son was innocent. It was a relief. Ed knew very well what their shared nature as Saltzmans could lead them to do. Of course, besides his family inheritance, Ric was a good-tempered man, he wasn't likely to kill his girlfriend over an argument or jealousy. But still. The facility to kill was not to be overlooked. Seeing his son in his current state of mind, the day before, had been enough to have him wondering if Alaric hadn't done something he could never forgive himself for.

Edward knew what it was like, to be able to kill even someone you loved and never really feel guilty about it. He had never made this mistake, but he had seen its effects. After murdering her own husband, his aunt had never been the same, torn apart with the loss of a murdured family member and knowing that if she hadn't been a Saltzman, it would never have happened.

Alaric had had this look on his face, too, that he didn't believe in anything anymore, when Isobel had gone missing, years before. And he had it too, last time Ed had seen his son.

Second, Landyn had told him that not only the woman Alaric loved, but also a man he had recently found out he loved as well, had died in a two days period. The questions being, did the man concerned knew he was loved, and how likely was it that the man concerned was now sitting in front of Ric's father?

That Damon fellow sure seemed to care for Alaric.

"When our son left the main house, he said something about the man who killed his wife."

Damon stiffened in his chair, staring stubbornly at a fold in the tablecloth.

Diane frowned at the reaction, unsure of what was going on in her house. But she trusted her husband, and if Edward hadn't yet brought out the big guns, quite literally in fact, it couldn't mean what she thought it meant, could it?

Ed drew the tablecloth flat, asking for the young stranger to look him in the eyes.

"That Isobel had never been murdered, and that he had fallen in love with the said man just before he died."

Well, more or less. Landyn had added some informations that Alaric had scarcely given away during the trip back to Boston. Such as going to a cemetery where Isobel had apparently burned to death not long before, something to do with suicide but not exactly...

Damon fidgeted on his chair, suddenly willing to be somewhere else.

To be frank, the vampire wished to be somewhere else since a great deal of time, but now, it was even worse. He felt as if cold water was running down his spine as Diane was looking at him utterly shocked. And he couldn't, no matter how much he wished to, look away from his shared gaze with Edward Saltzman.

And of course, he knew he had his guilty-of-everything-you-said-and-even-more face on, but this time, he lacked his usual smugness to assist him.

"Well, Isobel came to Mystic Falls twice over the last year, so I guess she wasn't murdered, or rather, I haven't killed her that night, since I'm pretty sure you figured out I was the said alsmost-dead guy. But she still killed herself less than two weeks ago, so Ric is actually single and I have no idea why I'm telling you this, maybe I should leave now."

But his body wasn't responding to his mental orders.

Stuck in a chair while his boyfriend's parents were studying him.

Damon had never felt this awkward in his whole life.

Ed sighed.

The world was really going too quickly for him. If only his boy could have stayed a boy a bit longer. But, well, even the not-adult Alaric had had issues. After all, he had been only fifteen when his first kill had happened.

Edward searched for his cellphone and a piece of paper Landyn had given him so that he'd stop pestering her.

"It's Ric new phone number. I guess that if someone can get him back to his normal self, it's you."

Damon's eyes lighted up in a billion stars light, and both Ed and Diane had to admit that their son was a hotties trap.

He was messy as hell when he tried to dial the number, but he surprinsingly managed to do it in the end.

The ringing lasted a while, but eventually the hunter picked up his phone.

 _"Who is it?"_

A lump in his throat almost prevented the vampire from speaking.

"Ric?"

A long silence.

 _"Damon?"_

"Yes."

 _"You are dead. Now go away. Leave me alone. I can't bear listening to hallucinations of you all day, you know."_

When he hung up, Damon was boiling with conflicted feelings. At first, it all went out through his mouth without discipline and not much meaning. The overall idea was something like this:

"He thinks I'm not real. He thinks I'm a hallucination. Alaric thinks I'm a hallucination. Why does he? Because I'm dead, of course, I can't be real. Alaric thinks I'm dead."

Then something snapped inside of the vampire's mind.

"You know what? Fuck. I'm going to beat him half to death and then I'll feel better. Hell, no one gets to ignore me and makes others believe they're having hallucinations. And meanwhile, I'll phone him every hour just so that he doesn't get to sleep until I get there."

Damon looked with determination at Edward and Diane Saltzman.

"I assume you know where he is now?"

Ric's father had a little smile creeping up his mouth, looking particularly amused with the whole situation.

"We're having a copycat situation, Landyn sent him after the fake Mobile Maker. So he should be on his way to Philadelphia."

"Thank you very much. I hope I'll see you again."

"Hopefully, with our son by your side?"

"Exactly."

The vampire saw the two of them smiling softly as he left, a bit hot-headed perhaps but more determined to catch up with Ric and take him back to live with him, by force if necessary, than ever.

Damon only took a break in order to gas up the car, and make the promised call of the hour to annoy Ric.

Somewhere between Boston and Philadelphia, the hunter, lying stiffly on the mothel's bed, didn't even try to reach for his cellphone.

Eyes wide open, but not really seeing, he wasn't sleeping.

Figures were sitting on the edge of the bed, silhouettes were standing in the shadows.

He could recognize each one of them.

The first man he had killed.

The vampires and werewolves he had slain.

And, worst of all, the people he hadn't managed to save.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring accusatively at Alaric, were Isobel, Jenna and Damon.

He couldn't really see their faces, but he knew they were them.

He knew it was them, and he knew they weren't here at the same time. He knew it was only a trick his mind played on him, because he couldn't bear to be who he was anymore.

And yet he couldn't be anything else than this sorry excuse of a human being.


	37. EAM, part 5: Blankness

_So I wanted to write something slightly depressing, but you know me, it means almost everything I write and also none of it. Let's only sum it up this way: Alaric will complete his task soon, but hallucinations of Damon are following him around..._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 5: Blankness**

Philadelphia.

Alaric absentmindedly thought he had been there before, not for long, only passing through, surely.

Well, it was another big city, with skyscrapers and everything. He may have enjoyed the city, if the circumstances of his being here had been different. But he was here to find a freaking serial killer, who used his cousin's modus operandi as a hitman, and to kill said serial killer the way both of them killed people. He was so not in the mood to be pleased with the view.

If he had been someone else, Alaric would have run away as fast as he could at the simple mention of a serial killer, let alone the part about his family issues and the fact that they had asked him to casually dismember a human being. Truth to be told, if he had been himself, though he wouldn't have run away, he certainly wouldn't have accepted the job.

But lately, the hunter hadn't been himself.

Why? was a very interesting question.

Perhaps the fact that every single person he loved always ended up dead in dreadful events was a good enough hint.

Once had been hard enough to deal with.

But in the past week, he had had to live it again, not only a second time, but a third one at that.

Deal with it.

Seriously.

Ric snorted, still sitting in his car, reluctant to get out and go to his motel room.

In fact, he didn't want to do anything. His greatest dream, right now, right here, was to fall asleep and never wake up again. Dying could do, too, but sleeping was something peaceful. And Alaric wasn't sure death would be peaceful.

He had, not long ago, learned that for some people, death wasn't the end.

He wasn't supposed to be one of them, after all, he wasn't a magical being. But he was still a cursed man. So who knew what would happen when he'd die? Would he simply disappear? Or would he be trapped, same as a vampire, a triggered werewolf or a witch, in the unnamed purgatory of the supernatural? No one could tell, as long as he was alive, and he wasn't willing to risk an eternity of ghostly existence for the sake of knowing. And what did he really knew about this shitty purgatory? Not much, really. Only that he didn't even knew if it concerned untriggered werewolves as well, which were the closest beings to his own situation he could think of. And, after all, humans might have had the same afterlife bullshit, only not in the same place.

Alaric really didn't wish for an eternity of brooding.

The only thing he wanted was to die and let it go. Or maybe not. Not being in the first place could have been great too. But now it was too late for that, right? Like, thirty-one years too late.

Whatever, he couldn't.

Not if he didn't know for sure what was awaiting him on the other side of the door of the deceased.

So instead of cutting his own throat open with the dagger he kept in the glove compartment, because he was growing freaking paranoid all over again, Ric got out of his car and walked to his motel room. There, he locked the door, turned on the light, and drew the curtains.

He was pretty sure the bed was begging him to lie down and sleep and forget everything for the night, but he didn't have the time.

Still, he'd have loved to lie down and sleep and most of all to forget about everything.

As if he could.

Alaric glanced to the edge of the bed.

As expected, he was here.

The others had gone away at some point, they had disappeared, vanished into thin air. Even Isobel and Jenna had left, smiling fondly as they looked at him for the last time. They had been pretty nice for hallucinations, once he had gotten used to them. Isobel had been as she had always been before she had left him. The only difference was that she had asked him to look after Elena, if he felt like it. Jenna, well, Jenna's hallucination, had been kind, and asked him to go back for the kids, but only if he felt like he could.

For now, he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd go back to Mystic Falls, but not right now. He needed rest. Blankness, even.

But him, he hadn't left.

The vampire's shadow was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

Damon's hallucination had been sitting there for five days, now. He wasn't saying anything, only staring at him angrily, as if it could change something.

For a while, Alaric had wondered why this hallucination wouldn't wear off as the others had. But well, he was hallucinating, so even if there most likely was an explanation in his subconscious, he wasn't anywhere near close to find it.

The hunter sat next to the figure of Damon.

No matter how he looked at it, the eyes, blue, ice-blue eyes, were eyes of resentment. The hallucination had always stared at him, with a painful look in his eyes. As if Alaric had let him behind when he shouldn't have. As if the real Damon was waiting for him somewhere, alone.

But Ric knew. He knew Damon was dead.

How could he not be?

Alaric reached out hesitatingly to the figure of a vampire he had once known.

His fingers didn't pass through the hallucination, but even when his arm was outstretched, the figure was still as far away from his hand as before.

The hunter didn't sigh.

He couldn't see the point to.

So he searched for a piece of paper and a pen. In the anonimity of the motel room, he thought about the task that had been given to him.

Mobile Maker's copycat was a clever man, but he had gotten a pattern, to kill thrice in the same city before moving, sometimes to another state, sometimes to another continent. He was either rich enough to travel, or working for an airline or something like that. Maybe he had chosen the pattern to play cat and mouse with the police, the FBI and any other law enforcement agency he'd find in his way.

Since they didn't know exactly what they were looking for, and were surely disturbed with the serial killer's sudden change of habits, he had gotten away with it for now.

But Ric knew what he was looking for, and he also knew which murders were Mobile Maker's and which weren't. He was abnormally good with murders, murdering and murderers. It had taken him four days only to figure out who he was going to kill and dismember this night.

Well, if that wasn't a happy thought.

He still had to check one or two things, but it was nothing he couldn't verify with a simple talk with his favorite suspect.

And if he was wrong, he'd only have to try again. The informations he had gathered, looking from far away at the two first crime scenes of the cycle, tailing the man, everything had being duly noted and verified, so if there was an error, it was due to a flaw in his reasoning.

The answer was somewhere there, on this sheet of paper he used to put on paper once again the hints and proofs. It was most likely to be the name he had circled in red, but if it wasn't, then it was something else, on this piece of paper.

Alaric closed his eyes, trying to remember the face of the man. Immediately, grey eyes and a wry smile showed up in his mind. No need for much effort, eh?

The killer wasn't special or anything. He looked quite plain. That was actually an advantage in the field of murdering, because he wasn't striking in any way.

That'd make Alaric wonder, how were the Saltzmans, even the ugly ones, even the beautiful and handsome ones, always able to disappear into the background as easily as any plain man, but well. Ric was a Saltzman. He knew how to do it instinctively, and had had years of training, always willing to be anyone, but not a Saltzman.

He didn't question his abilities.

Nor did he question his instincts.

They were what they were. Ruthless killers, the Great Assassins.

The man had hidden it well, when they were talking, sooner in the afternoon, about how the coffee in this place was great and all. But he had hidden too much, it was obvious to anyone in the field, and would have certainly seemed suspicious to a detective.

You couln't see who he really was in his eyes.

And while it concealed what should never be seen in the eyes of any man, the glint of hatred, the glow of madness, the gleam of cruelty, it also concealed everything else, and left to see only the falsity on a blank front.

Many men masked their feelings. This was old news if there ever was.

But when you knew what it was like to be empty in the inside, or at least not complete, as only a Saltzman could know, the facade was nothing. Some killers were able to tell their own kind. Everyone in Alaric's family could do as much.

The hunter would check anyway. He wasn't feeling like dismembering and displaying a corpse only to find out later that he'd have to do it again. As much as he didn't mind the killing, it didn't mean he liked to do it. And cleaning the blood afterwards was always an hassle.

And, well, even if he didn't have real feelings about that, even if he didn't feel it was wrong to kill innocent people, he still knew it was wrong, in a logical-,-cold-,-but-still-better-than-nothing-, way. And there was also the fact that he didn't feel good about depriving a family of a family member. That he felt wrong about stealing the future of a man.

He lacked a part of his soul, not a whole soul.

Damon's hallucination was there, glaring at him from afar, to remind him of that incomplete soul.

He struck a match and watched the piece of paper, with his notes on it, as it became ashes.

Ric set the alarm, then turned off the light.

He needed to sleep, not because he was tired, not because he had an appointment with a serial killer at eleven in the evening, not because he was going to kill someone in less than five hours.

He needed to sleep, because he was disgusted with life, and yet couldn't choose to die without risking to end up stuck as a ghost for all eternity.

Slumber was a good medicine to get rid of thoughts.

Silence.

Dreams, perhaps.

Nightmares, certainly.

But nothing he would remember once awake.

Alaric wasn't the kind of man who remembered his dreams.

No, the hunter was the sort of man who could only rest by sleeping, even if being asleep might have been worst than being awake.

Who knew, after all, what were his dreams made of?

What were the dream of a man, who could kill on instinct, and never feel anything about it?

No one knew. He himself didn't know. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was for the worst.

But he'd have wished he could be put to sleep forever, it that meant he wouldn't have to worry anymore.

Alaric closed his eyes.

He was unnaturally stiff on the bed, not even under the sheets, but he couldn't bring himself to unwind. Not after everything that had happened, the deaths, the betrayals, the sacrifices.

He couldn't bring himself to unwind, even as he drifted into sleep.

Ric didn't see the figure of Damon vanishing next to him, since it happened at the exact moment his eyes were shut with tiredness.

The vampire's shadow, as the hunter called it sometimes, had no reason to exist anymore.

After all, it was nothing more than an image of Alaric's mind.

It didn't really exist.

Hours later, not long before Ric would be awakened by the ringtone of his alarm, the sound of a car stopping was heard outside of the motel.

It wasn't unusual per se, it was a motel, after all.

What was unusual was the stricking likeness between the hallucination that had disappeared from the hunter's mind as he had fallen asleep, and the man who got out of the blue Camaro. He had the same raven hair, the same incredible eyes, the same handsomeness.


	38. EAM, part 6: Hindrance

_I actually had a hard time writing this one._

 _But well, it was an eventful chapter._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 6: Hindrance**

Damon got out of the car and walked to the reception. He knew for sure that Alaric was in this motel, he only didn't know where in the motel. So he'd have to ask.

As if he hadn't wasted enough time as it was.

Four days.

For four days, Alaric had simply left every place he had been to minutes before the vampire had come in. If he hadn't known it wasn't on purpose that the man was doing this... well, he'd have thought it was on purpose.

Frankly, Damon had to admit, Ric was freaking good at disappearing. The whole Falkenbach inheritance was genuine, surely. Alaric hadn't even tried to be discreet. Yet he was. No wonder they were the best killers out there, with such innate skills. Luckily for him, the hunter had only wanted to go unnoticed, and not to be a freaking human ghost, while doing his work.

The vampire wondered. Would he have been able to keep trailing the man if Alaric had been determined to simply disappear? He wasn't sure.

The receptionist was half asleep on her desk when he walked in. Damon patiently waited for almost three seconds, then got bored and banged on the desk. The woman looked at him, startled and angry, but kept her comments to herself when she saw his perfect face.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Damon used his most charming smile to get close, and it worked wonderfully. The receptionist was almost fluttering her eyelashes into his, and he wondered how she was restraining herself from simply stealing a kiss right now right here.

She couldn't have made it easier for him to compel her.

"A friend of mine is staying in this motel. His name is Alaric Saltzman, but I'm positive he uses an alias. Blue eyes, light brown hair. What is his room number?"

She gave him the room number, and he didn't bother to make her forget their encounter.

And no luck, Damon saw Alaric as he stepped out. But the hunter was already leaving in his car. This was becoming a bad, very unpleasant habit, the vampire thought.

Could he really be this unlucky?

The vampire gruntled before blurring to his car. Being a vampire allowed him to go fast, sure, but not for too long. Really, he had no chance to win a race against a car, if Ric decided to go somewhere far away.

He felt restless as he was driving, restless as he parked, restless as he lost sight of Alaric Saltzman for almost two minutes before noticing him walking with an unknown man to a dark alley.

What?

An unknown man. A dark alley. Alaric.

What?!

Reminding himself that the hunter was hunting, quite literally, a serial killer, and not searching for a substitute to a certain not-so-deceased vampire, Damon calmed down and followed them.

It could only be the said serial killer, couldn't it? Ric was definitely not the kind of man who would sleep around so soon after his lover's death. And if he had been, Damon was pretty certain the unknown person would have been female, not male. Unless the man looked like him. No one looked half as wonderful as Damon Salvatore. And from what he had seen, the man wasn't a look-alike. At all.

Putting his jealousy and possessiveness aside for now, the vampire listened attentively to the conversation that had begun not far away. The place was deserted, only two men glaring at each other and a vampire hiding behing a public trash can. Well, it was mostly the unknown man glaring, while Alaric looked like he could behead the idiot without thinking twice about it, and while reading a recipe book.

"Why are you following me, exactly?!"

Damon repressed the urge to go at the man's throat for yelling at Ric, the urge to step in and jump the hunter without caring about the idiot, and the urge to off the unknown man to be alone with Alaric. He felt that his boyfriend needed to finish his task by himself, and he didn't want to be a hindrance even before making Alaric understand he was goddamn alive.

Alaric's voice was frightening. Blank. Yet terrifying.

And yet so loved. Damon was in love with this voice. The few days he hadn't heard it had been hard. And now, he could hear it again. Even if it was the inhumane version of it. It was still Alaric Saltzman's voice, this voice that could get him to calm down no matter the situation.

"You did bring this upon yourself, doing what you are doing under the name of someone else."

There was a silence. The unknown man was glaring warily at Alaric, who seemed dead serious but also not cautious enough. Damon knew it wasn't the case. And soon, the other one knew too, as the vampire bumped in the trash can trying to see better.

The unknown man jolted in his direction, while the hunter only looked at the dark figure in the alley. He didn't seem tense or anything. But it was the same as usual. A Saltzman was always ready for anything. Always being on his guard didn't help to go unnoticed.

Alaric, as any other Saltzman, was used to be tense, to the point where he wasn't anymore.

"Who are you?"

Damon took a long breath and came to them.

He saw Ric's face twitching.

That was all the recognition he got.

Alaric looked back at the serial killer he was supposed to erase.

He didn't have time to deal with hallucinations for now.

"As I said before, this is nothing you don't deserve."

The unknown man couldn't see it coming. A blade was pressed against his jugular, his back was pressed against a wall of red bricks, his life was pressed against death, and he had seen nothing.

His eyes flew to the man near the trash can, imploring for his help, but the stranger with raven hair wasn't doing anything. Maybe he knew the one who was threatening him, maybe he was working with him. Maybe that was the reason why the other one hadn't reacted to his presence.

His eyes encountered those of his agressor.

Fear crawled under his skin.

Never before had he seen such eyes.

Eyes with nothing in them. Not the slightest feeling, let alone hesitation.

"I don't know what you think I did, man, but you can't honestly be hoping to kill me here and get away with it. Maybe we could talk about it, drinking a coffee or something."

His agressor snorted at that, a horrid smile distorting his handsome face, while a glint of amusement lighted his eyes. The unknow man wondered if it was perhaps the devil in disguise. One couldn't possibly look so great and at the same time be able to kill so naturally.

Because he had no doubt about it.

The man was dangerous.

Worst than him himself, able to do way more than the casual murders he allowed himself to enjoy, and yet unshaken with his own actions.

As if the man didn't really care about the killing. As if killing was in itself no more than breathing.

The unknown man got rid of these thoughts. It wasn't the time to be in awe, not if he wished to live. And he wished to live and to continue slaughtering innocents while hiding behind the name of a renowned serial killer who had been in the field for so long that him and his ridiculous twenty years of age would be a joke of a suspect to the police.

So he had to get rid of this man who seeemed to know more than he should have. But for that, he had to switch their positions, to be able to threaten the man and eventually kill him.

Of course, he couldn't know who was Alaric. And he wouldn't know that despite his looks, the young men who was staring at them with a confused face would rip his throat open before anything happened to the man he loved.

Damon was thinking. He remembered Ric's reaction to his phone call, and guessed that it was highly probable that the hunter thought him to be a hallucination. He figured out it would be better for everyone if he let Alaric deal with the serial killer before trying to jump him in an alley. Well, except for the serial killer, but who cared about the bastard?

So he had to behave for now.

And maybe he could get to see Ric in his killer-mode, and given the victim was a freaking serial killer, he could totally have no remorse about enjoying the murder and the sexiness of his soon-to-be lover soaked in blood.

The hunter's voice was heard one last time.

"You've upset someone who should never be upset. And you have endangered one of the worst families to threaten. You should never have chosen to hide your killings behind the name of this specific serial killer, for Theodoric Saltzman isn't a serial killer. He's a hitman with very particular ways of hiding his work. And even though he's a horrible man, he's still part of the family. Protecting him is protecting us. And you, you put him in danger with your thoughtless killings. Your existence is a threat upon a family of murderers. You should be able to guess what's coming next."

Realization slowly made its way to the unknown man's mind.

Whoever the hell was this man, whatever the fuck was this family, he had gotten himself in a freaking mess that he wasn't going to escape anytime soon.

It was his last thought.

The last things he saw were the eyes of the man who was killing him.

They held no pity, nor excitement, but only blankness. They weren't the eyes of a man, nor the eyes of a devil, but the eyes of death itself. They weren't judging, nor enjoying, but simply witnessing.

Blood escaped his body as a blade sliced his throat.

He didn't notice it was done the exact way he had been putting his own victims out of their misery, the same way he had carefully researched after hearing of the Mobile Maker and thinking he could use this killer to hide his own flaws. He couldn't notice, after all.

He was dead.

The body fell to the ground, and Damon thought it was time to intervene.

The sight of Alaric doing whatever he had been doing with blood and threats and a frighteningly hot behavior had him mentally panting already, though everything was a bit blurry to his mind since their eyes had met.

There was no way he'd wait anymore.

Ric frowned as he thought about how he was supposed to get rid of the body. He wasn't eager to dismember anybody this night. He hadn't been eager to do anything for days, to be honest.

He missed Damon, Jenna and Isobel so badly, that killing had been a relief, somehow. He didn't need to think when murdering. Analyzing his surroundings, yes. Thinking, not so much. Not for someone like that serial killer, only able to kill, but not to fight. Instinct was the word.

Damon.

Alaric glanced at the figure that, for once, had followed him out of the motel room.

No need to say that he was a bit more than surprised when the hallucination grabbed him and kissed him angrily.

Their lips met, got away from each other, only to be pulled into an even deeper kiss.

Their eyes were closed, this time.

None of them seemed to believe they were really there, together, once again.

Damon's hands roamed under the hunter's shirt, his body came always closer to Ric's, and soon the man began to embrace him as well, his hands wondering around the small of his back, and finally deciding to go and search for the hard curves of the vampire's ass.

Damon groaned, hard already, and opened his eyes when Alaric broke their kiss.

The hunter looked astonished.

"I guess that means you're not a hallucination, this time? But really, how did you survive that bite?"

"Not the time for that, sweetheart. I searched for you for days, but you were always fleeing the scene right before I arrived, and I want some compensation."

Alaric smiled sheepishly, but soon enough his face became serious.

The vampire followed his gaze, and he saw the still form of the nameless serial killer. Shit.

"As much as your ass is calling to me right now, I believe I have some cleaning to do. You could help, though. It'd be our first date."

The offer was tempting, Damon couldn't say otherwise.


	39. EAM, part 7: For the first time, togethe

_Well. At least, I tried._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 7: For the first time, together**

Damon looked proudly at their work. A real piece of art.

Well, not really.

Even for him, it was disgusting, though kind of funny. Disgusting was his human point of view, funny the vampire one. How the hell did Ric's cousin come up with this abomination of a modus operandi, even being a Falkenbach?

Alaric searched through his bag for clothes. They couldn't decently go back to their cars looking like that. "That" being, soaked in blood from head to toe.

After all, there were body parts hanging across the alley, and the hunter hadn't planned to give away that he and his fanged boyfriend might have something to do, you know, with the murder.

Alaric rolled his eyes when Damon tried to talk him out of getting changed.

"Don't you dare change clothes. You're way too hot right now, soaked in blood, for me to even let you take a shower."

"Then put on a cloak at least. I don't want to end up in jail."

"I can get us out with compulsion so fast we wouldn't even get to see what a cell looks like."

"What I want to see right now is a bed. Not a police station."

The vampire crept to his back. He had this falsely outraged look on his face, that he habitually used to get in someone's pants. And Ric had this idea that it was exactly his goal.

"You'd go to sleep instead of playing with me after all I did for you?"

Somehow the vampire's arms ended up embracing Ric, and the hunter frowned as he noticed Damon's hands going down his stomach to his fly.

Really, what was Damon thinking? They were in a dark alley in a big city, though not downtown, with several parts of a body artistically displayed not far away, covered in blood, and the vampire whined about his sexual needs?

"I don't remember saying I wanted to sleep in a bed. What I remember saying is that I want to see a bed. Sleeping is certainly not the only thing you can do using a bed."

Damon stopped undoing Ric's fly, thinking about that statement. After a while, he decided the wait was worth it, and let go of his loved one.

"Fine. But you're not letting me on the doorstep. I want to see this bed with you."

"It's a motel, anyway, Damon. You don't need me to invite you in."

The vampire shrugged and took the coat Alaric was handing him. As hot as fucking in a dark alley could sound, he wasn't going to anger the hunter when he was so close to making him his official lover. And he had to admit that Ric had a point about their culpability.

They left the alley and went to their cars. Before parting for the route, Damon heard his boyfriend mumbling something about how he hoped that the one who would find what was left of the serial killer in the morning wouldn't be a kid. The vampire's heart almost melt at how caring Alaric could be, when he was such a cold-blooded killer.

Blessed be the curse that had allowed him to get such a lovable human.

They miraculously managed to get back to the motel without meeting anyone.

The first thing Alaric did when he entered his room was to go to the bathroom and look at himself in the mirror. He was a total mess, hair falling out of place, blood stains all over the face, and clothes spotted with dark red smears. Sighing, he threw his cloak and shirt in the bathtube and went back in the bedroom.

Damon too had gotten rid of his coat, and was sitting on the bed, waiting for him.

"You can't know how relieved I am to know you're not dead."

The vampire made a face.

"You can't know how relieved I am not to be dead."

Alaric chuckled and sat down next to him.

"Since I... left, I've been seeing you each time I went and tried to get some rest. You would look at me with a bitter expression, and not say a word. At least, the others were talking."

The vampire frowned at the mention of other hallucinations. Who the hell had dared to be as important as himself to Ric's subconscious?

The hunter caught on his jealousy and smiled gently.

"You don't have to worry. Most of them were my victims. The others... well, Isobel, kind-Isobel I mean, not bitch-Isobel, and Jenna."

Of course. Alaric would never cease to love the two women. But he would not love them the way he loved Damon, the vampire realized. Ric was the kind of man who was able to differentiate the ones he had loved and the one he loved.

"I was afraid I'd never get to see you again, you know. You're too damn good at disappearing for your own good, Ric."

The hunter didn't answer the remonstrance. He could clearly hear the concern behind the light tone. No, what he did was way more sweet than a dull answer.

Damon almost jumped in surprise when Ric rested his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

"I love you, you know."

The vampire's heart shrunk at the word. Then he breathed heavily.

He felt free.

Damon said nothing, but gently took Alaric's head between his hands. The vampire turned to look the man in the eyes, ignoring the blood they were both covered in.

"Love you too."

None of them knew who went for it first, but soon they were kissing madly without listening to the squeakings of the mastress. Alaric's hands were trying to get Damon out of his shirt and the hunter wasn't even aware of their actions. The vampire, straddling his boyfriend's hips without shame, felt something hardening against his ass and smirked.

Then he remembered something and slightly paled.

"Erm, Ric?"

The hunter looked at him with lust filled eyes.

"What?"

"I've never done it with a guy."

Alaric sneered. For once, Damon Salvatore was confronted with something sexual he knew nothing about. Not that Ric knew anything about it either, but well. It was still sastifying.

And that way, they would be doing it for the first time, together.

"Neither have I. It only means we'll have to train a lot."

Damon arched an eyebrow, amused. This was going to be fun.

"I like the sound of this. Better get to work, then."

As he said this, he found himself back against the bed, Ric on top of him, looking dangerously alluring in a wild fashion. The man leaned to kiss him hungrily. His lips went down the vampire's throat, pursued to his left nipple, and Damon felt his own cock hardening by the minute.

Moaning with pleasure and haste, the vampire watched his lover's face while arching in need. Ric looked very pleased with himself, and soon the hunter took notice of the bulging in Damon's pants.

The sparkle in his eyes was no good news for the very needing vampire.

Ric went back to kissing him on the mouth, his fingers playing with his lover's nipples, his crotch dangerously pressed against the vampire's. Damon closed his eyes. They were both so turned on their cocks were rubbing against each other through the fabric of their pants, but Alaric wouldn't do anything to release them from the growing pain. Instead, he kissed the vampire so roughly he bit his lover's lower lip.

Damon shivered as a drop of blood colored their lips a darker red. The wound was already healing, and the vampire broke their kiss. He opened his eyes and saw that Ric was studying his face with a devilish grin on his own.

Understood. Sex with Alaric Saltzman was dangerous. Lucky him for being a vampire.

"You weren't staring at me all along, were you?"

The hunter's smile grew wider and this time, Damon gulped. He wasn't going to survive this much teasing if he didn't take part in it too, like, right now.

"I rarely kiss eyes closed."

The vampire gave the hunter a look.

"Freak."

"As if you didn't like it."

"Guilty as charged."

Alaric smiled fondly. This vampire would be the end of him, if he could get him in such a state. He had to admit, not repressing his strength while having sex was... different. He hadn't meant to hurt Damon before. The kiss had just... gotten out of hand. Yet again, the vampire surely had no issue with a little biting, hadn't he? Having issues with biting would be quite hypocritical.

"Well, what do we do now?"

Of course, he knew the answer. But having Damon take the lead could only be interesting, and he didn't want to regret anything later on. He wasn't going to monopolize and after that find out he hadn't satisfied his lover by being to busy with his own benefit.

The vampire grinned.

Not long after that, Ric felt something coming between their pressed hips and playing with his zipper. A hand teased his prick, and the man lifted his body off Damon's a bit.

"I know of a place who'd like to meet our friend."

Alaric refrained himself from laughing at that. At least now he knew how the vampire wanted it.

Compliant, he backed off and watched Damon getting completely undressed.

The sole view of the perfect body, of the white skin, sent a jolt to his groin. Waiting was becoming harder, but he didn't want to please himself instead of Damon because he was being impatient. It'd have been selfish. And a less lot satisfying, he suspected.

Once naked, the vampire turned his attention back to the history teacher waiting for him with a hard cock whose size was bewildering. Maybe he'd better get Ric out of his pants before trying anything else, for he wasn't feeling like teasing anymore with this mere sight.

No sooner said than done, and Damon found himself eyeing the promising prick with hunger as he helped the man to get naked. Never before he'd have thought another man's sex could look so wonderful and sound of so many promises. Obviously, he had been wrong. Even the pre-cum that had had Alaric blusing so hard when the vampire had savagely ripped off his underpants had looked delicious.

But Damon had behaved. For now, his ass was more demanding than his mouth.

Ric cleared his throat to get his attention, in a less lust-induced state, perhaps.

"Sorry but I... don't have, you know, erm... lube."

Damon stared at him for a second then smirked.

His hand went to his own cock, and he began to please himself while observing the hunter's reaction through his lashes. Soon his hand was covered with white and slippery cum, and Alaric was redder than ever.

"I believe this will do."

Not willing to waste anymore time, the vampire pressed himself against his lover, wrapped his fingers around Ric's prick and led it to his entrance. He had to force it inside of him at first, using his cum to help, but soon enough he could remove his hand and fully enjoy the feeling of Alaric's cock twitching in his ass.

Damon groaned as Ric began to move inside of him.

Trying not to rush it, the hunter searched for spots that'd make his lover feel just right, and after a while, the vampire was panting and perfectly happy with his sex life. The prospect of getting better with time, as they were doing it for the first time, was thrilling. If they could do this much now, how good could sex get with experience?

"You're so tight, Damon..."

"Well, sorry I'm not a girl. We can stop right now, if you'd rather have me as a chick."

"Never said it wasn't a good thing."

Alaric thrust into him with passion and the vampire mused that maybe he was being honest.

He hesitated a moment, shivered with one more move, and finally decided. It wasn't the first time, after all. Gently, carefully, he bit into the man's neck, but took little blood. It was for the pleasure, not for the need.

Alaric shuddered, but soon unwound and smiled at the vampire.


	40. EAM, part 8: You're incorrigible

**_Today's ordeal is complete, ten new chapters will be up tomorrow..._**

* * *

 _Sorry to disappoint those who thought something terrible was bound to happen, but it's mostly bantering this time._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 8: You're incorrigible**

Damon woke up early, but spent at least three minutes staring at the blue sheets under his nose. He hadn't been aware he had blue sheets for his bed. And why the hell was he sleeping with his face buried in the sheets? Even if he didn't need to breath, he had this habit about sleeping, that couldn't do well with having his nose buried into the sheets. And...

And there was definitely someone sleeping next to him. He knew the feeling of naked skin against naked skin, thank you very much.

What he didn't know, was the shape of the person's back. Either he had shagged a giant bodybuilding woman last night, or it actually wasn't a woman.

Damon gruntled. He had had to be terribly drunk to sleep with anyone when he was searching for Alaric. He moved a little, but stopped when the person next to him shrugged.

Just a minute, let him think about it...

He wasn't the kind of vampire who would screw around with a female bodybuilder, nor with a man whose name wasn't Alaric. Yet, there was a masculine and naked person in the bed with him. And Damon was naked too. And he certainly wasn't in his bedroom. And now that he thought about it, he had this disturbing impression that since he had moved there was something cold and wet spilling on his legs and coming from his...

The vampire sat up straigth in a jolt.

There was cum coming out of his ass. There was a man in his bed. The bed wasn't his bed.

Alaric's mumbling voice greeted him from under a pillow.

"What the hell are you doing, Damon?! If you want to go another round, you'll have to wait. Humans need to sleep."

Damon stayed mouth wide open for a while, then began to laugh himself silly. The day before, or rather the night before, had been one of the greatest in his life and he had almost forgotten.

"Don't you worry, sleeping beauty. We'll go at it again, but later, I promise."

The vampire avoided a pillow as he went to the bathroom.

The first thing he saw was his reflection in the mirror, and a moronic grin on his perfect face that made him look like a fool. No matter what he tried, it wouldn't disappear, so he resigned himself to look stupid for the next hours.

Rolling his eyes, Damon went to take a shower.

The cold water was rolling down his body, and he remembered how Alaric's hands had been scouting about every one of his body curves and edges during the night. The memories of their two bodies rocking together had him shudder.

It had been...

Splendid.

The bathroom door opened on a grumpy Ric.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself. Now I can't sleep anymore."

Damon looked down at his half-hard cock and realized he had been a bit too much enthusiastic with the night's memories. Maybe it'd be wiser not to admit how "pleased with himself" he was. He didn't want the hunter to conclude that he only thought about sex.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't wake you up on purpose. I was only a bit... lost, and wasn't sure why it seemed to be that I had sex with a stranger, moreover a man, during the night."

The vampire waited for an answer, but nothing came from the other side of the shower curtain.

Suddenly, the said curtain was drawn open and Alaric was staring at him.

"You slept around while I was gone?"

The vampire blinked, water running down his face, not sure of what to say. Why had Ric concluded this of all things? The hunter's tone was slightly menacing, and Damon finally figured it out.

"You're jealous."

"Why wouldn't I be? So did you?"

Damon chuckled, turned the water off, before looking down. Alaric followed his gaze and watched the twitching cock with a bemused look on his face. None of them was sure of what they were doing, but it was a promising morning.

"I didn't. See? That's the result of my sexual frustration. I can assure you you were my first since a long time, and I hope you'll be the only one for a long time too."

Alaric didn't respond for a while, then sighed.

"You're incorrigible."

"That's what you like about me."

"Well, whatever. Since you're already in such a state, since you look brazenly fuckable, since you're a vampire and therefore you certainly don't have a sore bottom, I guess we should take care of... that. Now, get out of this shower cabin, get yourself dry and let's try what we didn't do yesterday before I change my mind."

Huh. Surprising. So Alaric was this kind of boyfriend. He'd never have thought.

But why was he wasting time? Sex was great. What was he complaining about, exactly?

So they had an... interesting time once again, and Damon wondered why he had been so adamant about not saying anything sooner. Well, aside from the obvious. That is, man and man relationship. Jenna. Not knowing if Ric felt that way too. Mystic Falls' bullshit. Klaus.

Alaric and him were lying lazily on the bed when he felt the need to talk.

"Had I known we were going to do this, I wouldn't have showered."

That wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he had decided to talk with the hunter. But he couldn't seem to find anything clever to say. The vampire felt as if...

He was afraid.

Afraid of what would result in them talking. The day before had been all about seeing each other again, being relieved that they were still able to be together, and, obviously, shagging. They hadn't exactly talked, except about their love for each other. Which was already something. But they needed to figure out what would happen from now on. Possibly, before going back home.

Mystic Falls was going to be a challenge, now that they were in a relationship, Damon realized.

"I don't sleep with dirty people."

The vampire laughed at that. Ric was exactly what he needed. Serious, and not serious at the same time. Loving, but able to control his feelings, not to let just anyone see what was really behind his front mask. Well, that came from being a Falkenbach, but it wasn't exactly the point.

Alaric was perfect for him.

And he hoped he could be perfect for the man.

"I hope you don't sleep with people at all. Open relationships are bullshit."

The hunter looked at him over his book. He was hot, mused Damon. Maybe he could get Ric to read him a story before going to sleep, somehow. While being naked, of course.

"Well then, maybe I should consider buying a chastity belt. Of course, that means you don't get anything as well."

"Don't."

The vampire had growled at the sole idea. Though imagining it was... kinky.

Alaric stared at him. Right. Joking. Why the hell was he getting serious about a joke?

"Ric..."

The man put down his book and looked at him with a serious face.

"What is it? You've been fidgeting for almost half an hour."

"What will we... do about it?"

"Do about what?"

"Us. Being together. Mystic Falls. The kids. The school. You coming back. Us coming out. Your apartment. My brother. Your family. Nothing. All of it."

Damon suddenly noticed Alaric's hand running through his black hair and the fond look on the hunter's face. Apparently he had succeeded in exposing all of his incertainties with few and worried words. The vampire really had no composure left to deal with his lover. He had to change that. He didn't want anyone else to know how he was feeling when Alaric was around. Not for now, at least.

And well, for now he couldn't keep this stupid grin off his face, and he would certainly not go around looking like a fool if he could help it. If he found his own reflection utterly cheasy, what would others think?

"You don't have to worry about that. Sure, Mystic Falls isn't what I'd call a haven for same gender relationships, and we will most likely shock a great deal of persons when they'll hear about it. But us going out is definitely none of their business, and I believe we are more than able to handle one or two homophobic bullies. The children will come around at some point, and your brother will surely be happy not to have to worry about you stealing Elena away, I guess. As for the school, I heard the history teacher spot is considered cursed. I shouldn't have much difficulty getting it back, if they even already opened my resignation letter. Which is not a sure thing at all."

The vampire gulped.

"So we are a thing, then?"

"If we're not I'll feel that you abused me."

Damon rolled on his back and looked at his boyfriend with big puppy eyes. He had spent decades sharpening this skill, and was sure no one could resist his innocence. Or what looked like it, to be frank. The vampire wasn't exactly what one would call an innocent guy.

"I'm not sure you can say that. After all, it's my ass that met with your prick, not the other way around. I'm definitely not the one who took advantage of the other, in my humble opinion."

The hunter gave him a pointed look. Somehow it felt like it wasn't the first time they had this argument. After all, they had always only thing now, was that their verbal jousts were being somewhat more smutty.

"You looked pretty happy for someone who was being abused, I think."

"Ah but that's because you're such a sexy abuser."

"Not an excuse."

The vampire pouted and tucked his head under the blue sheets, letting his white and alluring butt in plain sight on purpose. Ric rolled his eyes, stood up and went for clothes while Damon was behaving like a spoiled brat. His boyfriend was such a kid, sometimes...

Alaric looked thoughtfully at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. He needed a shower, and even that was an understatement. Not only had they... gotten some exercise twice already, but he still had faint blood stains on his skin from last night.

When he got out of the shower, he was feeling refreshed. Looking in the mirror once again, he put his fingers on the bite mark from the night before. It wasn't very deep, and Ric could say the vampire had behaved while taking a sip. The hunter smirked.

Their everyday life was bound to be... interesting.

When he came back in the bedroom, he found Damon still pouting under the sheets, and his grin widened. He wasn't even sure the vampire hadn't simply dozed off.

He let himself fall down next to Damon and got his answer when his boyfriend grunted loudly.

"Damon?"

"Yes?"

"How did you find me?"

The vampire stayed silent, but Ric saw him stiffening. After a while, Damon whispered something from under the sheets that the hunter couldn't understand. Alaric rolled his eyes, thought he was doing that too often since they had been reunited, and lifted the blue fabric from the vampire's face.

"Say that again?"

Ice-blue eyes were staring at him indignantly, but there was something else in them, behind the front Damon was trying to keep up. Something that looked a lot like embarassment.

"Damon."

The vampire shrugged, sat up but refused to look at him.

"Fine. I went to see your parents. They know about... us."

"And that's all?"

"They were... nice. Not at all what I had expected with your family background."

"All of us aren't monsters. It's only that...No one in my family ever had feelings when it came to killing. But we know what an emotion is about for everything else, and dealing with our inhumanity is so difficult because it is only partial."

Alaric stayed silent for a while, worrying Damon a bit. Eventually, he sighed and said it.

"I guess I'll have to stop by the main house before going back to Mystic Falls."


	41. EAM, part 9: Human in body only

_**And ten other chapters to come, ten!**_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 9: Human in body only**

Damon and Alaric left Philadelphia in the early morning. The vampire had been sulking for hours when they finally arrived in Boston. Luckily for Ric, the two of them hadn't been in the same car, since the hunter had to give his back to his family, and Damon wasn't willing to let go of his Camaro, not that anyone would blame him for that. Actually, their parting was the very reason the vampire had been pouting.

Ric managed to get them a room in a motel, even with Damon almost leaning against his back and whispering to his ear all the naughty things they could have done in the car if the hunter had agreed to leave his behind. Refraining himself from punching the vampire in the guts, Alaric ignored the tales of the wonderful blowjobs and pornographic shows he had missed. The receptionist gave them a weird look, and a couple of customers blushed when their eyes met. Damon grinned like a mad man at that, and the hunter promised to himself that he'd make his boyfriend pay for his behavior.

They fought for over an hour in the bedroom, somehow ended up almost beheading each other, Damon admitted to having made a promise to Ric's parents, Alaric went pale, the vampire said something stupid, got his left arm broken, whined for another hour, got his "treat" as compensation, complained that it wasn't exactly a punishment for the hunter, that he'd better cancel any sexual activity from his schedule to make Alaric pay for his actions.

The man sighed and turned, resting on his side to see Damon better.

"We're going to need some rules if we want this to work."

"Such as?"

"You don't ask to be fucked in front of people to tease me, and I don't break your bones. You stay discreet about our relationship, I mean, decent, in public, and I don't stab you when I think you're annoying. This kind of things."

The vampire frowned, falsely offended.

"Do you think I'm a slut? I don't go around naked, as far as I know, though I concede to be a flirt."

"Then, Mister Flirt, what do you think of smacking someone's ass in front of a receptionist?"

Damon's grin had gotten so large the hunter was wondering if it wasn't larger than his face.

"Scandalous."

"What about pressing one's ever happy prick against someone else's hips while pretending to be picking up a fallen paper?"

Alaric's eyes were locked on Damon's. Still, he could feel his lover's fingers running on his stomach.

"Shameful."

"Strangely enough, that's what you've been doing this evening, if I recall."

"Maybe you'll want to punish me for being shameless, then? There's nothing a little discipline can't correct, or so I have heard."

And there it was. Ric doubted anything could be done about Damon's bad flirting habit, but well. He wasn't going to condemn the vampire's urges to have sex, as long as it was with him only. Not right now, at least. Maybe, with some time, the novelty of being fucked by Ric would wear off, and Damon wouldn't constantly be begging for it.

The hunter surely hoped it would happen, sooner rather than later, or he'd die from exhaustion before the end of the month. As long as Damon wouldn't get bored with him, it would be for the best.

"I blame the vampire libido, the fact that we're both so utterly sexy, and my love for you."

Alaric rolled his eyes and launched a surprise attack on his lover, who suddenly discovered himself to be pinned to the bed with both the hunter's strength and a fierce kiss.

When they woke up the day after, Alaric got himself dressed, and asked the vampire to wait for him at his parents' house. He wanted to go and see Landyn alone. They had to... talk about some things she wouldn't want anyone else to know about, even if Ric wouldn't hide anything from Damon.

No need to make the Saltzmans aware of the existence of vampires, what would eventually happen if the Head of the family decided they'd be better off with the knowing people sent to the their graves early. Ric wasn't eager to know how many Saltzmans Damon and he could kill before being killed.

Oh, and he might need to threaten Theodoric, at some point. Hopefully he wouldn't forget that one.

The hunter arrived at the main house around ten o'clock. He passed by three of his remote cousins in the hall, and all of them were giving him weird looks. If he hadn't known that the family members usually stick together, he'd have feared one of them would backstab him.

Ric knocked on the door of Landyn's office and waited. He heard some noise coming from inside, confirming that his aunt was in there, then a voice called for him to come in.

Landyn was alone in her office, looking a bit disheveled if not tired. Alaric guessed it meant she had stayed up all night, and that it was what the cold-blooded Head of the Saltzman Family looked like after a sleepless night. He wondered if he looked that way too when he didn't sleep but guessed it wasn't the case. He was a heartless murderer, after all, not a robot. As any human being, he was grumpy when he didn't get to sleep every night.

Landyn looked up from the pieces of paper she was glaring at.

"Alaric. I heard you did a good job."

The man shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the issue.

"It was all over yesterday's news, in Philadelphia. What I don't understand, is why you didn't call me right away. Or, at least, yesterday, since right after the murder could have been a bit suspicious if ever the police were to take at look at my phone calls..."

"I got sidetracked."

His aunt stared at him for several minutes, but Alaric ignored her. She'd have to do with that elusive answer. There were many ways he could have been unable to call, such as, with the police on his trail. And he wasn't going to give her a full report of his activities since he had finished his task.

Landyn eventually sighed and turned her attention back to the files on her desk.

Ric was about to leave when she looked up again.

"I would appreciate it if you could look into..."

The man stopped her almost immediately.

"I won't."

His aunt stayed silent, waiting for more. No use to hope and see her dumbfounded, or at least surprised, she was Landyn bloody Saltzman.

Alaric would have liked to take a deep breath but he didn't want to look like he needed to gather some courage before making his point. In his family one had to stand firm if he wanted to be heard.

"You asked me to kill Theo's copycat, and I did it. I won't do more. Your problems with the police aren't mine, though I'd be affected if they went and discovered our family issues. Still, there is no way they'd think our family to be really cursed, and so they wouldn't believe all of us are killers. Even if they did, most of us are protected by the circumstances of our killings. I did it to protect a child, you did it when someone tried to kill you, Cassandre did it when someone tried to rape her, my father did it while he was a soldier. Only a handful of our people would be in real trouble, such as Theodoric, who never reported the murder."

Alaric hold his tongue for a while after that, but the hell with the proprierties, he still had something to say. He knew Landyn wouldn't like it, but he also knew she wouldn't have anything to say since he was right.

"And frankly, Theo caused this mess with his, what does he call it, already, ah yes, job, so he could at least try and help. Last time I saw him, he seemed pretty smug for someone who almost had us exposed. I get it that having him meddle with the police when he is in fact the culprit in a case that has been dragging on for years wouldn't be wise, but it doesn't mean he has a right to belittle everyone else when they are covering his ass in the first place."

Landyn was still looking at him, and Ric was surprised when he saw her sighing.

"You know about the scar being a seal, so I should as well tell you about this."

The hunter grew more attentive. With what he had heard, from Galswinthe and Elijah, during the last months, it was possible that he already knew what she was going to reveal to him. But Landyn was the Head of the Saltzman Family, last heirs to the Falkenbach Family and its curse, and she knew about the supernatural reality of their condition. Her input could never be irrelevant.

"When Theodoric killed that man who had kidnapped him for ransom, it took us three days to find him. The seal was put on too late, and that's why Theo is worst than any of us, if not necessarily the strongest. His... human qualities have been wiped out, at least some of them. We, Saltzmans, Falkenbachs, whatever, have no feelings when it comes to death and pain, but we still are able to feel shame, pity, and other human emotions as long as it has nothing to do with killing, hurting, fighting. Theodoric... lacks some of this feelings."

Alaric's mind and reason fought for a short time with his disgust for his cousin, and if in the end he was feeling a bit sorry for Theodoric, he still loathed the man as much as he could. No matter the reasons, Theo was a murderer, a serial killer, a hitman above anything else.

Damon, at least, was trying to do better, and if he had killed many persons, he had also been struggling with his love for a manipulative bitch. It wasn't an excuse either.

But Damon, unlike Theo, could improve. He was a vampire, and if given some of the love he had never really gotten for himself, the human being he had been before could be revived up to some point.

Theodoric...

Was human in body only, as far as Alaric was concerned.

"You do realize that it makes him all the more dangerous. From what you just told me, he's basicaly a psychopath when we are simply remorseless. The worst being that he has our Falkenbach instincts."

Landyn winced when she heard him talking about their ancestors, meaning he knew about them too, but quickly rebuilt her neutral mask.

Alaric was definitely an interesting young nephew, and his being contumacious about the family ways was a good thing. If she could get him to care about their family more than about their killers inheritance, he may be a good choice to continue her work.

But it wasn't the time to think about it. She wasn't dead yet, and choosing a new Head of the family could wait. Moreover, coercing the young man into the position would do no good.

"Listen, Alaric. No matter what you think about him, I believe keeping Theo by our side is the best I can do, besides killing him right now, right here. At least, I have some control over him, and we are more than able to contain him if he ever were to go rabid."

Ric mumbled something about getting rid of the hindrance, but didn't insist.

When he left, he asked of her to leave him alone.

Both of them smiled a cold smile, knowing very well it was unlikely.

The hunter met Theo on his way out of the property.

Some disguised threats were politely exchanged, and Ric left.

When he arrived at his parents' home, he was quite pleased with himself, and noticed with a delightful surprise that Diane and Edward Saltzman were already aware of their son's relationship with Damon, and totally okay with it.

The four of them spent a great evening.

They laughed, talked about his childhood, and Ric got to see Damon blush when Diane complimented how good they looked together, and how good their looks were anyway.

Alaric might have blushed too, but it was only his mum being his mum.

Damon and Alaric slept in his old room.

Keeping Damon from being sex driven even in Ric's parents' house wasn't easy.

When the hunter woke up the next morning, the vampire was sleeping next to him, in the sleeping bag instead of in the bed.

He looked frighteningly cute.

They ate breakfast with Diane and Edward, then it was time to go.

Mystic Falls wasn't the only troubles they had, as Ric had learned during their stay in the first motel. They still had to deal with a rabid Stefan, out there in the country, but where exactly, no one knew.

Still, when they left Boston in Damon's blue Camaro, Alaric felt at peace.

Maybe life could be good, after all.

Good enough for a Falkenbach and a vampire to live somehow peacefully, at least.


	42. EAM, part 10: Oh-so-sweet-and-sanguineou

_So, more or less in 3x01._

 _But as the rest of the story suggests it, things happened before so the events aren't exactly the same as in the show._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 10: Oh-so-sweet-and-sanguineous-honeymoon**

"What's up, Liz?"

Damon had parked pretty perilously on the side of the road when he had seen who was calling him. For that stunt, he was being glared at by Alaric, but none of them really cared. They didn't have the same danger standards as others.

 _"Listen, I'm not sure about anything. But as you already know, since you've been asking for more than two months now, I've been gathering clues about the most gruesome murders since your brother... well, you know what I mean. Some of them put aside, I've got a general and believable trail. The last one leads us in the Tennesse."_

Alaric and Damon had been on the roads for almost three months, looking after hints about Stefan and his happy trip to the land of the Rippers and contacting some of Damon's associates, but they had had no luck until now. Lately, Liz Forbes had joined them in their joyful and bloody quest, though she was staying in Mystic Falls.

"Any specifics?"

 _"From what I know, the bodies are in pieces, and the scene is covered in blood. No one saw anything, And the police is only starting to take a look."_

Damon sighed loudly. If the authorities were already aware of the murders, it wouldn't be easy to sneak in and gather informations.

"Thanks, Liz. Tell me the location, and we're on our way."

 _"We?"_

Of course, Damon had said nothing about what he liked to call his Oh-so-sweet-and-sanguineous-honeymoon, causing Ric to roll his eyes and even, sometimes, to punch him. So Liz had no idea he had taken back the history teacher, only informing her that the man had "health issues" and wouldn't be back to school before the end of the term. No need to say Alaric hadn't approved, but since they could stop a rabid vampire from killing innocent people, and he had no valid explanation for his disappearance, he had eventually complied.

The vampire grinned at the cellphone, oblivious to the fact that smiles weren't sent through phone networks. Somehow, the Mystic Falls' sheriff figured out he was smirking, and said she didn't want to know anything about anything, especially if it involved bloody vampires and psychopathic friends.

Damon glanced at Ric, and wondered how much this statement could be true while being so clearly false. The hunter wasn't a vampire and wasn't exactly psychopathic, but he had proved himself to be quite bloody at times, and he certainly was his friend.

Friend, best friend, boyfriend.

Well, for the man to be all this to Damon, he surely had to be different.

Alaric glared at the vampire.

"I'm certain I don't want to know what the sheriff said if it's about me."

Damon gave Ric his most innocent smile and almost leaned on him.

"Why is that? Compliments, sweetheart, I swear."

"If you consider it a compliment, it surely means it would be a shame for any proper human being."

Damon vamped out just for the hell of it, and his left hand searched for the man's shoulder. When he felt the Falkenbach scar through the fabric of Alaric's shirt, he smiled widely, allowing his fangs to be seen.

"We're not proper human beings. I'm not human, you're not proper. Deal with it, love."

"You meant to say you were neither human nor proper, didn't you?"

"As if. Enough talking, we're going to Tennessee. I'm driving."

The hunter looked at the vampire, slightly bored. He wished he had something to do, even grading despairing essays if it came to that, but something to do. He still felt under stress after his return to Boston, his meeting with Landyn and Theodoric, and let's not forget about the part where his new boyfriend was supposed to be a dead new boyfriend.

"You're always driving."

Damon arched an eyebrow, and started the car. They had to get going if they wanted to be there for Elena's birthday. No matter how much he complained about the girl's heroin complex, he still cared about her. Most of the time, it wasn't exactly her fault that she had to make shitty choices. When one gets to choose between betting their own lives and getting other persons to die, it was understandable that one would choose a way that wouldn't please everyone.

"It's my car."

"I was only saying that you didn't need to state your point every time."

They squabbled for almost an hour before finally staying silent, glaring daggers at each other, and occasionally ogling each other.

The house Liz Forbes had told Damon about was in the countryside, but they couldn't have missed it unless they had been driving on the wrong road. Yellow police tape was all over the house, several police cars were parked near, a forensic team was completely bewildered at what they had seen and discussing it with a sightly sick look on their faces.

Damon drove past the house and parked not too far away, but still far enough not to be seen.

The vampire could get them in with compulsion, but compelling so many people was a bit tricky, especially if he were to forget someone. He looked with hope at Alaric, who rolled his eyes and searched the car trunk for more suitable clothes.

"Don't tell me you never played cop before?"

Damon smirked at the question and tried his best to look smug. No need to say it didn't take him much effort. Smugness was his natural state, as Ric had said at dinner.

"I did use handcuffs and a policeman cosplay, but it was mostly in bed, if you know what I mean..."

The hunter ignored him and grabbed a black suit in his suitcase. It'd look a bit wrinkled, but since to get to the house one had to come by car, it wouldn't be so odd.

Of course, Damon didn't turn so that he could change in private.

"Instead of ogling me, get changed too. I don't want to try and pass us as detectives with you looking like a pimp."

Damon was about to answer back as soon as Alaric began talking, but when he heard the shameful word, he only stayed with his mouth wide open for some time. Then he looked at his expensive-and-totally-open-black-shirt, stared at his grey-and-totally-showing-his-hip-bones-pants, and wondered why Ric was being so vehement about it. The fact that he certainly didn't look like a police officer passed by his brain, but he liked it better to think the hunter was becoming possessive.

But still.

"I don't look like a pimp."

Alaric raised an eyebrow but didn't bother to look at him, going through Damon's stuff in search of something less inappropriate to wear. The task proved to be arduous.

"I look like a freaking model."

"You do realize cops don't wear thousands dollars shirts, don't you?"

Damon pouted but took the grey suit his boyfriend was handing him, reluctantly agreeing to change into it. He liked the suit, but he didn't like to be told what to do. Even if Ric was right.

"They do. In cop shows."

"And we're not in a cop show, so you behave. And even if cop shows' cops wear thousands dollars shirts, it's still appropriate clothing."

The vampire mumbled something about flower patterns and Miami, but refrained himself from talking back. Alaric wasn't even so interested in the matter, and it was him who had the argument going on.

The hunter took away the black glasses Damon was considering, saying they weren't playing _Men in Black_ , and they walked to the house.

A policeman tried to stop them, Damon compelled him into obeying Ric's directions who knew better. The man managed to make it look like they were here to talk to the detectives in charge of the case, and seemed utterly sorry when he heard they weren't there anymore. Then he accidently let a slip of the tongue inform the policeman there had been other similar cases in the nearest states, one of them being their own, and that the highter-ups were thinking of handing the cases over to the FBI, if the murders appeared to have been commited with the same modus operandi. It was such a shame they couldn't take a look, simply to see if they were so similar.

Damon snorted as the policeman let them him, asking them to be cautious. Of course, the man was compelled, and would never have prevented them from coming in even if Alaric had told him crap, but that way he could still explain why he had let them in if someone asked. Hopefully no one would, but it was a precaution for the man's future.

Ric was so caring that the vampire would end up being jealous of a pebble one of these days.

When they were finally alone, they started studying the house. The bodies had been removed, but there was no mistaking: someone had died in here, and the killer hadn't exactly cleaned the place. Blood splashes had colored half of the walls and furnitures in dark red, and pools of dried blood could be seen near the sofa. No wonder the forensics guys were so puzzled.

Alaric glanced at Damon when the vampire grumbled.

"Definitely him."

"I would never have believed... And usually, I'm pretty good at reading people..."

The vampire sneered, watching a bloodied mat closely.

"Don't worry, Ric. You're a wonder when it comes to evaluating someone. But Stefan... It's like there are two of him, really. I guess it's because he never truly accepted being a vampire, a blood-sucking monster, because he never forgave himself for killing the first human he killed, namely, our father, because he's always going to blame himself for making me as I am, the frantic vampire killer. When he snaps... he's not here anymore, he's... someone else. Even you can't see it behind the real him... unless the other one is the real him, I'm not sure about that..."

Damon pulled the mat aside and found a hatch in the floor.

"Why are you always trying to get him to drink human blood if you know it triggers him off?"

The vampire sighed. Of course, Alaric wasn't stupid. The hunter knew Damon well enough to hear in his voice how he cared for his little brother.

Even when he had been trying to destroy Stefan's life, after the first and as he knew now not last Katherine fiasco, Damon had felt sorry for forcing his brother. He had hated Stefan. But what the young vampire had become after turning, the thing he had forced him to be once again in the early twentieth century... Well, it had been no fun to destroy this thing. After all, the Ripper of Monterrey couldn't be destroyed, since he wasn't feeling anything. Stefan had been quick to switch off his humanity.

And to be frank, Damon hated him, back then, but at the same time...

No matter.

"The thing is, I'm certain he only has to accept what and who he is, and then, no more Ripper. But no, he's too afraid to do that... And now, we have this kind of problems to deal with."

"Maybe we'd better put the house on fire, if the police hasn't found the hatch yet."

Alaric and Damon were staring at what was obviously a werewolf's claws marks.

"Not a good idea. They saw the worst already, and this particular piece of evidence won't disappear with a mere fire. We should as well let them work and try to guess who exactly could have done... that."

The hunter looked around once more and nodded.

Stefan had done quite a show in the house.

They left the crime scene with a polite nod to the confused policeman waiting outside, not sure anymore why he had let them in, and walked to the Camaro. They were long gone when the man realized something didn't add up.

As Damon was driving like a mad man in the direction of Mystic Falls, they wondered why Klaus could be searching for werewolves. The idea of other hybrids didn't sit well with neither of them.

One was enough of a pain in the ass.

"Maybe we'll be home on time for Elena's birthday. Last time she phoned she was so angry I didn't even get a chance to tell her you were with me."

Ric sneered at that.

"Or maybe you didn't want her to urge you to take me back instead of going on your little... I quote, 'Oh-so-sweet-and-sanguineous-honeymoon'."


	43. EAM, part 11: That sounded like trouble

_So, back in Mystic Falls, hum?_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 11: That sounded like trouble**

Elena was mentally glaring at the coming crowd, though she was doing her best not to look unhappy with the... "surprise" birthday party Caroline had been so not discreetly putting into motion since more than a week. How the blond girl had succeeded to get Damon to agree was beyond her. Really, who would have thought the vampire would accept a flow of teenagers in his house with his bourbon bottles, for Elena's birthday?

Certainly not the said girl.

Her eyes fell on Jeremy, already half-drunk, and possibly half-stoned on drugs she didn't even want to know the names of. The young woman had decided to take it upon herself and stop him from wasting his life, but it wasn't a simple task. For now, she was utterly failing, and she knew it.

Elena tried to reach him, but the teenager spotted her and disappeared.

Another failed attempt.

She avoided two boys she didn't even know and forced her way to the restricted section of the house, where no one, absolutely no one else than the habitual bunch of supernatural occurences, was allowed. There, she met Caroline, sipping on a blood bag with a guilty look on her face. They talked a little, but at some point the blond girl had to rush to the party, having heard a loud crash that certainly didn't bode well for the house's furnitures.

Elena sighed.

She was so going to be killed, turned and then killed again by Damon if anything had happened to his precious, let's say, library for exemple.

Really, Elena was trying to be optimistic.

But she couldn't see anything good in her life anymore.

She was trying, though. Only, she wasn't succeeding.

What about the people she cared for? Dead, dead, vampire, dead, vampire and gone, dead, gone, werewolf, dead, witch, junkie, and... Well, she wasn't even sure anymore who was what, after all, she hadn't been keeping tabs lately. The number of "dead" labels was too depressing.

With Elizabeth Forbes in the know and Caroline's compulsion, Elena and Jeremy had somehow managed to avoid the no-adult-guardian-problem, and now that the young woman was an adult as far as the law was concerned, they would be alright. More or less. If she had too, Elena was planning to take Jeremy's guardianship. But it'd still be better if Ric were to come back.

It wasn't because she now was an adult, that she didn't need one.

The door flung open, and the girl was ready to shout "restricted area" when she realized who was the man entering the room. Well, not exactly the man. The vampire. Not the vampire she wanted to see so much lately, but still one she kind of liked. Strangely enough, with all he had done.

And even better, there was another man behind him, a real, human man, this time, one that she had resigned herself not to see around anymore.

Alaric shut the door behind Damon and looked at Elena, sitting in the kitchen with a very surprised expression on her face. The hunter grinned a bit awkwardly, but he was happy to see her.

"Ric! You're all right! We were worried, you know."

And apparently, she was happy to see him too.

"And what, no greetings for me?"

The young woman cocked her head to the side and studied Damon as if she hadn't noticed his presence up until now.

"You didn't call to say you'd be in time, and you didn't call to say you had found him, so I'm ignoring you for now."

"Well then, maybe I should have kept him to myself, After all, it's not like you need a legal guardian anymore, and little Jeremy is already a lost cause."

This comment earned the vampire a fork being thrown at him. The aiming was acceptable, if a little too much to the left, but of course, he caught it before it could hurt his face.

Ric's voice interrupted their antics.

"Legal guardian?"

Damon shuddered against his will. The voice was a bit too cold, a bit too dreadful, a bit too furious. And if it was so, it was certainly the vampire's fault. Maybe, if he had told the hunter about the guardian thing before... But he hadn't, knowing very well that the man would have run back to Mystic Falls if he had.

And they wouldn't have had their road trip.

Which would have been a shame.

Elena looked at the vampire suspiciously before turning to Alaric and informing him of Jenna's last wishes, including him becoming Jeremy's and hers guardian. Of course, at the time, she hadn't been of age, and now she was, so it wasn't the same anymore, but Jeremy still needed a figure of authority in his life... and truth to be told, Elena did too.

Ric went various shades of grey and green, before being carefully led to a chair.

"I'm sorry, Elena, but I simply can't. I... I'm definitely no example for either of you, and I don't think I can raise normal children, even less teenagers..."

The young woman frowned at the use of the word "normal". She wasn't normal, she was a bloody doppelganger, and a supernatural magnet.

Damon chose not to say anything, but he had a pretty good idea of what the hunter meant by that. Alaric was a Saltzman, a Falkenbach, and had always believed that if he were to have kids, they'd be the same as him. Cursed, and not exactly with the same ethics as anyone else.

Elena was a doppelganger, sure, but she was human, and had a human mind. Jeremy was normal.

Oh, and the thing between Damon and Alaric might have something to do with his unease, too. After all, he couldn't possibly be in charge of his ex's wards when he was back to dating already, and a totally improper vampire at that. That was... too much of a headache to come.

"Well, we're not five years old, so, if you could simply do so that Jeremy goes to school and doesn't go back to some unhealthy habits I don't like to talk about, which, I'm sorry to say, he already has gone back to, it'd be a lot. You know, keeping an eye on us, scolding us for coming home late..."

Damon felt the need to be sarcastic, and completed her list of guardian duties.

"...And beheading one or two rude vampires coming after the miss once in a while."

The two humans glared at him, and the vampire thought it might have been wiser to stay silent, after all, Ric had almost forgot about his boyfriend's sins. But as always, Damon had to be sassy, or life would be boring, so he had to talk. And now he wondered if he'd have to sleep on the couch this night.

Wait, if Alaric was going to be the children's guardian... Wouldn't he have to live in their house?

Oh shit.

May Elena forget about that, may Elena forget about that, may Elena for...

"Come on, I'm sure Jenna and my parents would be okay with you sleeping in one of their rooms."

Too late.

Damon didn't listen to the rest of the conversation, too busy with pouting and grumbling and sulking. Really, people have no idea how much concentration one needs to do the three actions at the same time. He should have gotten an award, if only for finding out it was possible to do so.

His attention went back to the conversation when Elena almost shouted, remembering something she had to tell the hunter.

What was it, now? Was the world falling apart? Had Jeremy become clever? Had Carol Lockwood been belly dancing while they were away? No? Then, it was certainly not interesting enough, Damon could go back to brooding because his Ric wasn't only his anymore.

"Ric, there is someone who wants to see you."

Ah?

It might prove to be interesting, actually.

Alaric shifted in a more comfortable position, almost sure he wouldn't like it. Why? Really? If someone wanted to see him, it was usually someone from his family, or someone with questions he couldn't answer without spilling the beans about murders and blood and victims.

"Someone you know?"

The girl shaked her head.

"Never seen before. He arrived in town about one month ago, and everyone is talking about him, but no one really knows anything."

That sounded like trouble.

"What does he look like?"

"Well, he'd be handsome, I guess... no, cute would be more accurate. Long, black hair, and an eyepatch. I think that's why everyone is talking about him. You don't often see someone with an eyepatch. I suppose he has been in an accident or something..."

She stopped talking when she saw how the hunter had paled at the mention of the eyepatch.

Damon too was surprised at Ric's reaction. Sure, the man seemed strange, but unless he was out to steal his boyfriend, the vampire couldn't see what was so bad about him. And, before anyone asks, there was no way Damon would let anyone snatch his Alaric Saltzman. The key word was "his". His Alaric, his Ric, his hunter, his Saltzman, his Falkenbach. No one would steal him away as long as the vampire was alive. Not even a cute man. Yuck. Cute man. It sounded awful.

And there he was again, being sidetracked. He really needed to focus on something important, such as, why was Alaric growing paler by the minute, instead of becoming completely gaga over his love for the hunter.

"Damon, I'm afraid we need to go and see this man right now."

The hunter's voice was almost pleading.

"Oh, but he's here."

The man and the vampire stared at Elena as if she had grown a second head. Though Damon still wasn't sure why he was acting as bewildered as Alaric.

The young woman shrugged, went to the door, opened it slightly, took a look at the crowd on the other side of the door, and closed the door. Then she made a sign for them to come.

"He's just there, near the shelves. He has been coming here everyday since he arrived, I take it someone told him you two were friends."

The hunter took some time to calm down. He couldn't let the other one see he was disturbed with his coming to Mystic Falls. Worst of all, he couldn't let the other one, the other freaking Saltzman, know he was vulnerable. Of course, Alaric could beat him if he had to. But... Well, there were too many people in the boarding house, too many potential victims, too many potential hostages.

"Elena, you stay in here. I don't want you anywhere near this... this man."

The young woman was startled by the hatred in his voice, but she agreed to stay in the kitchen. Whoever this guy was, Alaric clearly didn't like him.

Ric opened the door, and his eyes instantly settled on his cousin.

"Damon, may I present to you my dearest cousin, Theodoric Saltzman?"

So, it was the infamous cousin, mused Damon, the one who was supposedly worst than the vampire when it came to killing people without a valid reason. No wonder his boyfriend wasn't happy.

"I thought you had threatened him?"

Alaric winced as they made their way to the troublesome guest.

"I did. But he's downright mental, and it seems he has taken an interest in me, I mean, more than before, now that I have clearly expressed my distate for him. If you could refrain from acting rash, it might actually help. He won't try anything with so many witnesses, but he's a lot like you about one thing: if he's not pleased, you could find a body in you bathroom tomorrow, and no one will know what happened."

"I love your family, Ric."

"Well, I don't."

"I suppose getting rid of him won't do?"

"Unless you want three or four other Saltzmans to deal with by the end of the week. Considering he doesn't kill you before you kill him."

"So that's a no."

The two of them finally joined Theodoric. Damon had to say, he looked a bit like his sister, Cassandre, with his black, long, perfect hair, but he gave off a disturbing vibe.

Theodoric Saltzman bowed slightly his head when he saw Alaric. Or, more likely, when they were close enough to talk, because he had certainly noticed his cousin a long time before.

"Ric. I only wanted to warn you: I'm staying in town for a while. I'm interested in what you consider proper... for people like us."


	44. EAM, part 12: Fluffy bunnies and cute bu

_Caroline is awesome..._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 12: Fluffy bunnies and cute butterflies**

"I suppose I can't get you to change your decision?"

Theodoric Saltzman gave his cousin a patronizing smile before walking away.

Damon looked at Alaric's face, searching for the tiniest bit of information, but no, the man was like his cousin: unreadable when he wished to be so. And for sure, Ric hadn't been willing to give away anything in his conversation with Theo. So Damon had no idea of what was going on in his boyfriend's head.

What he had an idea about, was that Theodoric Saltzman was creepy for a human being. Not the good, weird kind of creepy, but the freezing, unpredictable kind of creepy. When compared to Alaric and Edward, the two other Falkenbachs Damon knew, the cousin was colder, less human. As if he had less feelings. A bit like a switched off vampire, actually.

Finally Ric relaxed a little. The first thing he did was to tell Elena she could leave the kitchen, though she had to be careful. He then asked her if it was a problem if he was to stay at the boarding house for the night. The young woman crooked an eyebrow but agreed.

At first the lovers spent some time outside, sharing a drink, and Ric said a memorable thing about being a hellish teacher and a shitty responsible adult, surely referring to the massive alcohol consumption in the house and his lack of action concerning it, as well as to the less important but existing anyway use of drugs they had spotted during the party.

But the hunter couldn't relax, after his discussion with his cousin, and they felt a bit out of place.

So Damon and Alaric ended up alone in the restricted area of the house, to the vampire's great pleasure, and to the hunter's relief. They could still hear loud music coming from the sitting room, and Damon wasn't really happy when some teenager began to shout in drunken stupor, but it was better than nothing.

They went to the vampire's room, lay down on the bed and stayed this way for a couple of minutes.

"Any idea what he wanted?"

Ric shook his head, staring in the shadows with his boyfriend's head on his chest. He wasn't sure when exactly during their trip the vampire had decided it would be a great habit to do that, but he had to admit it was comfortable. Couple habits, he mused, same thing as how Damon was always the one making breakfast while the hunter was handling the loundry.

"You heard him. He wishes to know what is 'proper'. The hell if I know what it means."

"Basically he's on his way to make your life hell, no?"

"Likely. Promise you won't try to kill him unless he himself tries to kill someone."

Damon chuckled. Obviously, he had thought of the possiblity to do that.

"Should I talk to Liz?"

Alaric took some time to think before answering. Telling the police was the dumbest thing to do for a Falkenbach, but they were talking about Elizabeth Forbes, not some random sheriff. The woman had a vampire daughter she was trying to hide from her vampire hunters deputies while being friend with the vampire spy in the Founder's Council. True, their friendship was a bit awkward lately, but still.

The hunter sighed. Theo was so going to be a headache...

"Let me one or two days to think about it. I don't want to rush anything with this psycho, it could trigger him into doing something none of us will like."

Damon shrugged his shoulders and decided it was time for some cuddling.

His hands were already on the man's belt when Ric stopped him.

"What?"

"There are kids downstairs."

"And?"

"Do you really want me to spell it out for you?"

"They can come and watch for all I care."

Alaric's hands grabbed his tighly. It was no laughing matter, apparently, and the vampire should better remember it. It wasn't the first time the hunter had been angry at him for not being private enough, and each time, they had ended up fighting for at least three days.

"I was going to say you could perhaps lock your door in case, but since you're so open minded, I could as well leave. It's not like I didn't have an apartment waiting for me."

The hunter was already standing at the door, and Damon panicked a little.

"Erm, wait. Ric? Hey! It was a joke. You know, I don't want anyone else to see what's mine. Well, I do kind of want everyone to see and be jealous of me for having someone as wonderful as you, but I don't want them to see your dick. I'm not the sharing type. And, wait, are you actually making fun of me right now or are you really angry? Because I can never tell with you..."

Ric turned to face him and rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't joking, but I wasn't really angry either. It's simply, Damon, that you need to be less sex driven. I don't think you only want this to be about the sex, do you?"

Ugh, tricky question. Of course he wanted more, but he had the feeling the man was going to pull a stunt he wouldn't like, such as, in order to prove his words, no sex for three weeks. He had had a girlfriend like that, around the Sixties. But with her, he didn't really want more, he only wanted to play a bit. In the end, he had drained her after an argument. Not something he would tell Ric.

"Damon."

No evading move, then. Hum. Hell, he had forgotten how being in love and being a couple could be difficult. Not that he had ever been in a real relationship with anyone before.

"Fine, I don't want your body only, I want you to love me, fluffy bunnies and cute butterflies. Now can we move on?"

Alaric laughed at that. The vampire was really one of a kind.

"Tomorrow."

Damon's features darkened, then lightened. It could have been worst.

"I want a kiss, then."

"A kiss it is."

The hunter's hand caressed his boyfriend's jaw, and when the fingertips left his chin, their lips were together. Alaric's tasted of bourbon, Damon's of blood, and really, none of them were bothered.

Someone opened the room's door, the man and the vampire heard a shriek, and a click informed them that someone had taken a picture with their cellphone. Damon waited a second then got off of Ric to glare at the intruder.

Caroline was grinning as if she had just won the lottery, her phone at arms length. Now they knew how the intruder had been so fast to snap a picture: she was a vampire.

"What do you want, blondie?!"

Alaric watched, a bit bewildered, as Damon snarled at the young miss Forbes. He had no idea where all this was going, but he felt in his guts he would hear about it for years. One does not simply kiss Damon Salvatore without having to endure some giggling from the overbearing blond of Mystic Falls. Especially if they are the high school history teacher and legal guardian of the authoritarian vampire's best friend. If only he had been completely drunk, he'd have an excuse, but no, he wasn't.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep their relationship a secret. Okay, maybe a little. But he had no problem with it being known. He wasn't sure about the school, though, about the students' parents, about almost everyone in the small town.

As if dating Damon and having Theo in town wasn't enough of a headache.

Caroline invited herself in the room and closed the door, locking it this time, as if she was planning to hear everything from how they had fallen in love with each other to how they did it, not forgetting what was their favorite colors. That might have scared the teacher a little.

Damon tried to shoo her away, but the younger vampire glared at him and sat down on the bed.

"I don't do heart to heart, barbie."

"I don't care, I only want to threaten you to be correct with him or I'll make sure you don't get anyone else in your bed for the next fifty years."

Damon stared at her not sure of what to think, stared at Ric not sure of what to do, and stared at the door not sure of when to run. Caroline turned to her teacher and asked, sparkles in her eyes.

"Now, what I want to know, is how much you're ready to pay so that I won't tell everyone downstairs."

"What?!"

The two lovers had almost screamed together, and the blond rolled her eyes as if they didn't know how to tell a joke from the truth. Which was, apparently, the case.

"No, seriously, I need to know, I am, after all, the queen of gossip around here."

"You're not gossiping about us."

The tone in Damon's voice was clear. He wouldn't allow her to do so, and Ric felt a bit better. He had feared the vampire would find it hilarious and even worsen the rumors.

Caroline shrugged. Those adults could really be thick headed, couldn't they?

"I won't. But when the gossiping begins, and it will, trust me about that, I can't be seen as a queen of gossip who doesn't know anything about you two, especially since we know each other pretty well."

"Ric, me, together, happy, forever and ever, no kids intended obviously, now get out and leave us alone."

"Fine. But don't complain if Elena attacks you tomorrow morning thinking it's a complicated plot to get to her through Alaric."

And with that said, she left.

The vampire and the hunter stared at the door some more time, then stared at each other, then at the door once again, and finally at each other again. Damon stated blankly that he had no idea what was the deal with today's teenagers, Alaric told him he had no clue either. Somehow, the noise from downstairs sounded really threatening at the moment, and they were both waiting for the door to burst open and Elena to rush at them with a stake and some duct tape.

"I guess that mean we're going to be outed?"

Ric nodded slowly. This was becoming harder by the minute not to laugh loudly. All of a sudden, his stress had disappeared and he could only see how comical his life had turned in less then twenty minutes. Caroline Forbes was a peculiar savior, but a savior nonetheless.

That's when he saw the very serious expression on his boyfriend's face.

Damon seemed to be really concerned with the hunter's reaction to the soon-to-be-news of their relationship. It was a bit unsettling. After all, it wasn't a basic boyfriend, but the vampire flirt of Mystic Falls.

Ric smiled softly.

When Damon loved, he loved deeply.

And for that, he would never put his relationship in jeopardy by overlooking his loved one's point of view. He had done too many errors in the past, loving someone he shouldn't have, destroying his brother's life, going after a girl who was already taken.

"You're sure you're all right with it?"

Ric chuckled lightly. A concerned vampire just for him was very cute. He refrained from frowning at the thought. Lately he was having this kind of ideas more often than not. But Damon wasn't exactly the definition of cute. More like handsome, awesome and deadly.

Love could do wonders to the brain.

Alaric collected his thoughts and went back to the matter at hand.

"As long as it's only our relationship that is outed, I don't care. I love you, Damon. Doesn't matter if you're you. Doesn't matter if you're a man. Doesn't matter if everyone knows about us."

Yes, exactly. It didn't matter, even if Damon had some problems of self-restraint. The hunter was working on that. A little love was all the vampire needed, someone to care for him. Many persons, if possible. If Damon coud get better at dealing with his life, Stefan would eventually open up to his brother, maybe even trust him. That is, if Ric and the vampire could get the little brother to be a bit more human than he was at the time. But first things first. Caroline was already being carefree around Damon, which was a bit astonishing.

Hopefully, Alaric could get the vampire to be a better person, if a not a perfect one.

Then again, the Falkenbach wasn't an example. He wouldn't try to transform the vampire in a grass-eating sheep. Only to turn the rabid wolf into a healthy wolf.

Yes.

Love could do wonders to the brain, you only had to give it a chance.

For Damon and him, Alaric was more than willing to give it several chances.


	45. EAM, part 13: A speck of dust in his eye

_Ah, me and my irresistible urge to save people..._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 13: A speck of dust in his eye**

Alaric had fallen asleep quickly after Caroline's visit, but he was awake after the first buzz from Damon's phone.

He had always been a light sleeper, and he suspected everyone in his family was. Once, when he was six years old, someone had sent an assassin after Landyn to take her out, and the hitman had thought it a good idea to sneak up on her during her sleep. Clearly, it hadn't been. From what he had heard from the adults, his aunt had been awake at the very moment the man had put a foot on the floor. The young Ric had never known what had happened to the man after that, but he was certain the police hadn't been called.

Sending an assassin after the Saltzmans was one of the dumbest things to do. Each of them was as dangerous as a professional hitman. And Alaric had a sneaking suspicion that every Falkenbach had always had a slightly more efficient body than the average. Theodoric, for example, was way stronger than one could believe given his slender stature, and Landyn had not half the muscular mass needed with her strength. Himself, he had a good stature, athletic enough, but not exagerated, and yet he could take down opponents way more versed in physical activities, though he usually relied more on his speed and precision.

Anyway, he spent most of his nights in a semi-slumber, unless he was very tired.

And the phone buzzing was more than enough to wake him up.

Still, Alaric decided not to move. If it didn't concern him, he could as well go back to sleep. And his own cellphone hadn't buzzed, so it didn't concern him.

Damon, on the other hand, picked up his phone and asked with a half-sleeping voice who it was.

He didn't like the answer, as he stiffened next to Ric, but the hunter thought his boyfriend would wake him if he needed him. If it was only about a vampire running amok in Mystic Falls, Damon knew better than to deprive him of sleep. They had traveled through most of the nearby states, they had sneaked on a crime scene during the afternoon, and he would have to deal with Theo starting tomorrow.

So, Alaric had had enough for now.

And Damon knew that. If it was serious enough, he would wake him. If not, the vampire would deal with it alone.

Ric heard the vampire mumbling at the phone, he felt him kissing lightly his cheek, and he heard the door being shut. That certainly meant he could go back to sleep.

Damon saw the crowd on the ground floor, and decided he had no time for that, so he simply jumped from the nearest window onto the quack grass. No one had seen him, and if they had, they'd think they had had too much to drink at the party.

As he left the boarding house, he wondered if it would have been better to ask Alaric to come with him. But Stefan had said to come alone, or Andie would pay. And Andie was his friend.

Anyway, he wasn't going to kill Stefan, unless he really had to, and Alaric and himself were better at killing people than at keeping people alive. Ric couldn't really help him with this one. Or he hoped he couldn't, because if he could and having thought he couldn't led to Andie's death, Damon wouldn't forgive himself for that.

How had all this happened? Why had Stefan gotten Andie involved in their vampiric problems?

Because no matter what Damon said, he still cared about the woman. Hell, she was one of his rare friends, with Elizabeth Forbes, and that was something.

When the vampire arrived at Andie's workplace, the lights were off and no one was here. But he could hear whispers and crying from the tv set studio.

Damon went in.

A light went on.

And the vampire couldn't see a thing.

He called out for Stefan, who was just behind the projector.

Damon sighed. Dealing with blood-addict-Stefan was never a funny thing to do. There was a lot of bickering, and the oldest brother had sometimes the impression he was dealing with his own emotionless self. No need to say, his own emotionless self was a bastard, and dealing with him was a hassle.

Actually, he didn't have the chance to deal with his blood-addict-brother, since Stefan simply threatened him, showed him where Andie was, and ordered her to jump to her death before disappearing.

The vampire paled, and rushed to the falling Andie, but not matter what he did, he knew it was too late, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her fall. He knew, she was going to die.

There was a loud and terrible noise, the clatter of bones breaking, the sound of flesh teared with the shock, and then nothing else happened. Damon stayed dumbfounded, staring at the space where Andie's body should have been, but he could only see some blood on the floor.

There was no body.

How could there be no body? When people died, weren't they supposed to leave lifeless bodies behind them? Why wasn't there a body?

So the vampire was standing there, in a tv studio, and looking at a little pool of blood on the floor. It was almost as if Stefan hadn't come and condamned Andie to her death, it seemed like it had all been a nightmare. Had it been a nightmare?

Damon looked around, not really seeing. He went around the room, not really caring. He listened to the silence, not really hearing. No matter what was the truth, this wasn't it.

Andie wasn't dead, because if she was, there would have been a body.

Suddenly, anger rose in his heart, and he knew he had had enough. Stefan, Stefan, always Stefan! Stefan the dear child, father's favorite, Katherine's favorite, Elena's favorite! Stefan, the one who had friends, the vampire upon whom one could depend. Stefan Salvatore the good, the bright, the nice, Saint Stefan of all things! Why was he running away from his friends, from the girl who loved him? Damon never had any real friends. No one who really loved him! And was he running away?!

No.

The vampire calmed down.

He had Alaric. He was Ric's favorite, not Stefan. He was starting to get along with Caroline, even if that was a bit awkward. He was friend with Liz, strange as it sounded.

And Stefan had to deal with the crazy Niklaus, to protect Elena. It wasn't an easy job, he mused. So he could understand, if he couldn't approve of Stefan's doing.

Still, he didn't like that his little brother was out killing his friends. It was supposed to be his job! He was the evil and heartless and horrible vampire brother. Not Stefan. Stefan was supposed to be the kind, caring vampire brother.

All this was because of Klaus.

Damon made his mind up. Klaus didn't want him to get his little brother back? Fair enough. But when Stefan would be freed from the Original, he'd make sure to make Klaus' life a living hell. Be it in three decades or three centuries. He was certain he could come up with something involving wolfsbane and vervain. Like, spicking everything and everyone the bastard would possibly drank from. He'd do it in a way no one would ever knew what happened, and...

Right.

Now wasn't the time for his mad rambling.

Damon was feeling a bit better, now that he had pinned the responsibility of everything wrong that had happened in his life on Klaus. It wasn't even such an exageration, afer all, his life hd been ruined by vampires. And Katherine. Who was a vampire. And vampires had appeared with the Originals. So, blaming an original for all the shit in his life wasn't so stupid.

Damon let himself fall on the floor, not far away from Andie's handbag. When his eyes fell on the purse, he felt bad again.

Andie had died. And mostly because of him. He didn't know how her body had disappeared, but maybe he had only been denying the truth, somehow, and maybe, if he looked to the pool of blood he'd see a body. Maybe he wasn't exactly in his right mind.

He didn't dare to look.

Instead, the vampire reached for the bag. Maybe she had pictures in it? Damon felt like looking at his deceased friend's pictures.

When he pulled the handbag to himself, Damo heard a metallic sound and frowned. He searched the bag, and his hand touched something cold. Intrigued, he grabbed it.

The vampire paled when he recognized the mirror he had given to the journalist, and felt like his stomach was rolling over his other internal organs when he noticed it was open. Hope made its way to his brain. It was a grim, sinister, unpleasant kind of hope, but it was still hope.

Could the mirror have protected Andie, as it had protected Rose? Was it why there wasn't a body?

What had Bonnie said about the mirror? He couldn't remember.

Wasn't it something about taking in the essence of a person? Or was it about taking in the essence of a dying person? Was there any way it could have worked even without being activated by a witch? Or was it only working on a supernatural being?

Damon was literally all over the place, hoping, fearing what would be the answers to his questions. Was there any chance that Andie had, somehow, survived Stefan's uncalled for stunt?

He took a look at the pocket mirror.

When he had asked Andie to keep it with her, he hadn't thought about all that. He hadn't wondered if it would protect her too, seeing as she was a human, and there wasn't a witch with her to ensure everything went smoothly if she ever were to die. The only thing he had wondered about, was whether or not the mirror could handle a second essence to bear.

The vampire's fears were confirmed when he could only see his own reflection in the damned mirror.

But Andie's body was nowhere to be seen, and he couldn't see Rose in the mirror either.

There had to be an explanation.

Andie couldn't really be dead.

Or could she?

He felt a pang in chest, and said nothing.

Andie was dead. Gone. For good.

Damon snorted, and tried to laugh it off as a minor inconvenience. Soon enough, he stopped trying, for he didn't feel like it. There was no one here, so why was he pretending?

Who was he kidding? Even he had feelings. Even more now that he was happy. Before Alaric, he would have acted as if he didn't care, and, truthfully, he might not have cared much. After Alaric...

The vampire closed the pocket mirror, and at that exact moment, when he saw the mirror in a certain angle, his heart missed a beat. Carefully, cautiously, he opened it again, slowly, so slowly that he could get a glimpse of every angle the mirror would be in.

At some point, two faces smiled at him.

Rose and Andie.

Damon hoped they'd get along. Surely they would. After all, they had put up with him.

The vampire closed the pocket mirror before they could see the tear falling down his left cheek. He knew he had a speck of dust in his eye, but they wouldn't believe him. Frankly, he himself didn't believe him. A speck of dust his ass.

A speck of dust it would be.

Damon cleaned the tv studio, picked up Andie's belongings, and went back to the boarding house. There, he saw Elena, who was angrily waving some photograph at him, but he told her to shut up after a while and walked away. He had a pretty good idea of where the picture came from, but wasn't inclined to comfort the young woman now that he had told her it wasn't about Klaus' murders, but her beloved's. After all Stefan had done this very evening, he wasn't in any mood to listen to the list of all the things Klaus would have to pay for once she'd have her boyfriend back.

The vampire knew there was no hope for the current, ripper Stefan. Not for now, at least.

So he went upstairs, let Andie's things in a cupboard, but kept the pocket mirror with him.

When he saw Ric sleeping peacefully, he smiled a bit more and put the mirror on his bedside table.

It was time to sleep. So he did.

Alaric said nothing, didn't open his eyes when his boyfriend came in. But he knew.

Rose and Andie were talking, watching over the two men from the mirror hanging on the back wall of the bedroom. Of course, they could be seen only from a certain angle, and no one could hear them.


	46. EAM, part 14: Your cousin

_Add some days, a week maybe, between 3x01 and 3x02, and there is this chapter._

* * *

 _Because I like to imagine gruesome murders..._

 _No, I don't. But I do it nonetheless, and I guess this is the best way to get them out of my head. And frankly, it could be worst._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 14: Your cousin**

When Andie Star was reported missing the next day, Alaric turned off the tv and looked at Damon who only shook his head. They talked about it a bit, and the hunter took a look at the mirror.

Days passed.

Somehow, Theodoric behaved, even if his cousin was less than pleased each time they met at the Mystic Grill or somewhere else in town. He was either drinking a beer, or hanging out with the oldest students who were all curious over his eyepatch. The girls seemed to think he was really gorgeous, and mysterious, and rich, and, in a word, totally to their liking. Sometimes, Damon had the feeling he was looking at himself.

Elena was being difficult about Stefan, searching for him in every way she could think of. Damon had to warn Elizabeth Forbes not to tell the doppelganger anything unless she wanted the girl dead, and the vampire and Ric had been forced to move their notes in the teacher's now unused loft.

But all in all, life was going on.

Alaric should have known it couldn't possibly continue this way for long.

One night he woke up on the Gilberts' couch to find a memo on the coffee table. He still couldn't bring himself to sleep in either Jenna's or the parents' room.

The hunter reached for the memo, thinking it was surely something he had forgotten to put away the day before, a note about his next class, or an appointment with some student's parents.

But it wasn't.

This was definitely not his handwriting.

Ric froze when he realized that the only two persons who were likely able to sneak upon him during his sleep were Damon... and Theo. Damon, because he was used to his presence, and because the vampire could be damn quiet when he wanted to, and Theodoric because he was a Saltzman too. A locked door wasn't going to stop him if he wanted to come in.

And this was definitely not Damon's handwriting.

Alaric rushed upstairs, and was relieved to see Jeremy and Elena asleep and alive. He knew he wouldn't have stayed asleep himself if anything had happened during the night, but he couldn't help the fear that had rushed to his head when he had realized his cousin had been in the house, and he wouldn't have known if not for the memo.

He closed the two doors of the youngsters' rooms quietly, and went back in the sitting room. There, he took the time to actually read the memo. His face darkened as he did so.

 _Some guy I have never met before tried to hurt me yesterday evening. Something about giving back his girl. As you can guess, he didn't even get to hurt me a little. At first, I was a bit worried and didn't know what to do. But you know what, cousin? Turns out the guy had a drinking problem. Why not use him to deepen the Sobriety Merchant's fame? Since, after all, he had to die anyway._

 _P.S.: you'll find him behind the grocery store._

 _Your cousin._

Alaric almost choked when he finished reading.

What the hell was wrong with Theodoric? Aside from being a Falkenback, aside from having some issues with his seal, this was pure madness. No Satzman was supposed to act like that, so reckless, completely out of any boundary, and that rule was not only to protect himself, but also the whole family!

But Theo had lost most of his feelings when he hadn't been sealed in time.

The hunter sneered blankly. So much for Landyn and her delusions about keeping the young man under surveillance.

Well. Maybe it was because of him. In a way. Not much. But still a little bit. He had piqued the interest and the curiosity of his cousin by antagonizing him instead of staying silent despise the man's black deeds, and now he reaped what he had sown.

So he'd need to deal with the inhumane human being that was supposed to be his cousin. Supposed, because Alaric wasn't willing to recognize they were of the same blood. If anything, he'd rather admit being part of the Saltzman Family over not admitting it and still considering Theo his cousin as an individual.

One last warning.

One last warning, and after that he'd take Theodoric down. No matter what he'd have to do for that to happen. He had been lenient enough until now, but this couldn't continue anymore.

So the hunter hid a knife in his left shirtsleeve, and two syringes filled with sedatives in his right one, and he was on his way.

When he arrived at the still closed grocery store, he felt relieved the carnage had yet to be found. No one needed to see this, and not having the police to deal with was good. He went behind the building, and sighed the Sobriety Merchant's masterwork.

It was disgusting.

The dead body was hardly recognizable. Once killed, Theodoric had made sure his face had been disfigured with the shards of a glass bottle. The body was positioned as if the man had passed out drinking against the nearest wall, and three empty bottles of wine had been displayed near his head. Another one, now marred with blood, had been broken and pushed into the poor guy's stomach. Finally, Theodoric had thought it funny, when he had created the Sobriety Merchant, that the fictional serial killer was to break another bottle and put it on his victim's head as if it was a hat.

Alaric didn't need to look, and he certainly didn't want to, but he knew his cousin had stuffed the man's throat with smashed glass.

And he also knew Theo was here, not far, and watched him with a sickening smile. There was no point in doing this if he didn't get to see the hunter's anger.

So he walked away, sat down on a bench, and waited.

Theodoric came to him on his own after one minute only. Ric greeted him as if nothing wrong was going on, and didn't bother to look at his cousin after that. Theo did the same. They stayed this way for a while, staring in opposing directions.

"Landyn won't like this stunt."

Theodoric snorted in disdain. What did he care about their aunt's opinion?

"More like you don't like it, not her."

"I don't like that you come and mess with my life."

"Try and stop me, then. Oh, I forgot, you didn't do it back then, and you won't do it now."

Alaric would have arched an eyebrow, if he hadn't wanted to keep any hint of what he was going to do to himself. Instead, he threw his left arm to his cousin's face, releasing the knife at the same time. Left or right, he didn't care much. A Saltzman was born almost ambidextrous, and little training was needed to really become it.

Of course, Theo was expecting something of the sort. The man grabbed Ric's arm and twisted it in a way that the hunter could only let go of the blade.

"I'm ashamed for you, Alaric, if that's all you can do. Where does your confidence that you can beat me anytime come from? Or have you gone soft since you left, hum?"

The younger man almost sniggered as he finished his sentence, looking at his cousin's angry face.

He should have known better.

Theodoric felt dizzy all of a sudden, and looked at the now smiling Alaric. It was a cold smile, very, very cold, very ominous, too. Three seconds later, he was falling on the ground.

Alaric took out the syringes from his cousin's side. He had thought it better to knock out Theo for as long as he could, and he knew two syringes of sedatives weren't going to be the end of a Saltzman. On top of being highly skilled in combat and assassination, the Falkenbachs were hard to kill.

Ric looked at the still form and sighed.

"I'm ashamed for you, Theodoric, if that's all you expected from me."

The hunter dragged his cousin to his car, and transported him into his apartment. Once there, he roughly tied up the man to a chair and called the police with a cellphone he had bought under an alias. He tipped them off on the slaughter scene they'd find behind the town's grocery store and hung up as soon as he could. Then he called Damon, asking him to get his ass over here quickly.

Then he went back to restraining Theodoric. He had promised the man a last warning, and the man would get it. By being tied to a chair in his cousin's apartment for one or two days if needed.

Thirty minutes later, Damon knocked on the door and Ric told him to come in.

"What, you won't open your door to greet your estimed guest anymore?"

The hunter rolled his eyes.

"I'm kind of busy right now, convincing my cousin not to kill anyone else before lunchtime."

Damon looked at the said cousin and noticed the man was dozing with a lot of ropes and chains restraining his body. If that was what Alaric considered "convincing", the vampire hoped he'd never need to be convinced. Although, if the "convincing" involved a bed and sexual activities, he could very well reconsider.

Still, there was something wrong with the scene he had before his eyes.

"What the hell... wait, anyone else?"

Ric nodded, stern-face on.

"Liz and the deputies must be busy at the crime scene by now. So I'm teaching him a lesson. Can you hand me his jacket, please? I'd like to see if there is any hint about what else he planned to do."

Damon blinked once or twice, but did as he was told. The Saltzmans were an odd bunch, he knew that already, but well, he was a vampire so he had nothing to say. Though he suspected this Theodoric fellow was a whole new thing to deal with.

The hunter went through the jacket pockets, and as he did this, he found two switchblades, one of them with dried blood on it. He frowned, seemingly disapproving of his cousin's lack of professionalism. Then he found a flyer about an exhibition not far away from Mystic Falls about World War II with the words "For Ric" written on it. He stared at it for a minute, then stared at his sleeping cousin in obvious disbelief, then rubbed his temples and sat on his bed.

After a minute he looked at his boyfriend and asked if the vampire would come with him. Damon smirked as the history lover was making himself known in Alaric and said, with a hint of mockery, that it would be an honor.

They ate breakfast together, keeping a wary eye on their tied guest, then left for their improvised date. Alaric made sure to lock the apartment's door and windows, yet he clearly believed that if Theodoric managed to get rid of the ropes and chaines and handcuffs and adhesive tape, he'd succeed in getting out of the loft too.

On their way out of Mystic Falls, they drove near the grocery store, and Damon stared in disbelief at what was a real investigation in the vampires infested city that usually hid the bodies from the public. He saw Liz Forbes looking utterly sick at the sight of Theo's murder and wondered what else the man had come up with after Mobile Maker.

They spent a pleasant day out of Mystic Falls, ending it with the exhibition. Everything was perfect, Damon laughed at some "beliefs" of the modern historians, and Alaric asked him what he knew of the truth with the genuine interest of a history teacher.

But at some point of the tour, Ric froze and stared intently at a picture of nazi officers. Damon, intrigued, took a closer look at the photograph, and was surprised to see a man who resembled someone he knew... Who exactly, he had no id... Well, no, the man looked a lot like Alaric.

"You.. look quite alike."

The hunter responded in an angry voice.

"I know. Genetics seems to love to mock me. You'd think that after two centuries of separation, our families would never have anything in common physically speaking, but here I am, with the almost same face as a nazi executioner."

Damon could understand that he didn't like that at all. He looked at the caption: Werner Falkenbach.

"You're from the same family?"

"Hildegard Falkenbach eloped with Karl Saltzman to America without telling anyone in 1755."

"And that's why the Falkenbach Curse is considered extinct..."

Ric said nothing on the way back. Damon followed him to his loft, where Theodoric was waiting for them, humming, still tied to his chair. His cousin waved the flyer before the man's eyes.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?! You knew he would be on the pictures!"

Theo smirked at Alaric's anger.

"You're still playing the good man, but you are no better than the rest of us, Alaric. Saltzman is the name of a blood stained family, whether you like it or not."

The hunter slammed the door, leaving his cousin confined in his apartment.


	47. EAM, part 15: So derogatory

_Set in 3x02_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 15: So derogatory**

When the morning sun woke Alaric up the day after the exhibition fiasco, he found himself to be sleeping next to Damon, in the vampire's bedroom. Both of them were clothed, and he had no recollection of the evening. The fourteen bottles of various alcohol lying around the room surely had something to do with that, he mused.

Ric made a quick trip to the bathroom, and began to puke his guts out. He hadn't had so much to drink in a long time, since Damon and his getting together, he believed. They had gone out for a bourbon occasionally, but they had almost lost their drinking habit, too happy to bother with alcohol.

When he came back in the room, showered and clean shaven, his vampire of a boyfriend was sitting on the bed, sipping a blood bag with a smirk.

"Good morning?"

"Shut up. You don't have to deal with the hangover, so you don't get to comment."

The hunter soon left the boarding house and went back to the Gilberts', where he was welcomed and attacked at the same time by a very hyper Elena.

It took him some time to understand that she wanted to go to the Smoky Mountains since she knew Stefan was there hunting down werewolves with Klaus.

"Wait a minute, how do you even know that?"

The young woman looked at him fiercely, as if to dare him to try and persuade her, as Damon had done, to give up. Ric only looked away, still unable to focus on anything in particular.

"The sheriff told me yesterday a bit after noon. She seemed distressed, with the murder and all. Wait a minute, it's not Damon, at least? Because if he's the culprit, I don't see why he thinks he can lecture me about Stefan, because he's definitely worst. At least Andie didn't suffer before dying. And she's not even dead."

Alaric nearly snarled at that. What did the girl know, really? From what Damon had told him, the woman had been scared almost to death before being ordered to let herself fall. And if Andie hadn't died, she was still stuck in a pocket mirror, as was Rose-Marie, and that wasn't thanks to Stefan.

The teacher could understand that Elena was being restless, and didn't really mean it. He knew Damon hadn't the cleanest record in the good guys history too. That didn't mean he liked to hear her being so derogatory.

"I know for fact it's not Damon who did it. And, what do you think you're doing, going after werewolves on a full moon, exactly?"

"Searching for Stefan. He'll be there, and I'll get him away from Klaus. After that, we'll come back."

Ric frowned. First things first, how did she think she'd get past Klaus in the first place? And also, who said the vampire would come with her? He had a deal to honor, and breaking his part would only make everyone he cared for a target for Klaus' revenge. And one last thing...

"We?"

Elena looked at him with a calculating gaze, went upstairs and came back with some aspirin.

"Well, I'm not going to go there alone, am I? As you pointed out, there are werewolves and it's almost the full moon. You're welcome to accompany me."

Alaric took and swallowed a tablet, secretly hoping the young woman would disappear from his sight after he'd have taken the medicine. Who knew, maybe she was only a manifestation of his hangover.

Unfortunately, she wasn't.

He eventually grunted his agreement, and as he went upstairs to wash his face and look a bit more like a respectable human being, he phoned Damon to ask him to tag along. He could still hear his boyfriend's exasperated tone and promise to be at the Gilberts' as soon as possible when he joined Elena's trip preparations. If he had to gain more time, he could as well make it useful. And he certainly wasn't going to let the girl near anything with fur, fangs, and claws without a handy of wolsbane grenades.

As for himself, he still had the knife from the night before. He'd do with this much, not really willing to talk about his family curse to the young woman.

Elena sighed as she put her bag on her shoulders.

"I was going to go and ask you to come anyway. Since you weren't in the house, I had planned to pass by your loft, but now it's not necessary anymore. Unless you want to grab something there before leaving?"

Alaric's heart missed a beat as the young woman said those words. He was quickly remembered of his tied up guest. He didn't know, for now, if Theo had escaped during the night, or if he was still in his apartment. He had been lucky he had arrived to the Gilberts' before she went there. Ric hadn't the slightest idea of what Theodoric could have done to the girl if she had gone and had found his cousin instead of him in the apartment. And he didn't, but really didn't, want to know that anytime soon.

"I've got everything I need, thanks."

"Well, then, shall we?"

The teacher winced behind her back, and they left the house. Damon was casually leaning against Ric's car, and smirked when he saw the unhappy look on Elena's face. He bowed ridiculously low and asked if her majesty would get in the car, and if the regent would take the passenger front seat. Ric ignored him but decided it would indeed be for the best if the vampire was to drive. He still had a headache.

He surely fell asleep at some point of their trip, even if when he opened his eyes on the Smoky Mountains he didn't remember having closed them. Nonetheless, he felt slightly better, even though they were going to walk right into a forest that would soon be infested with werewolves.

Damon shooed away his concern for him, saying that yes, vampires were the werewolves' favorite treat, but him, at least, he could run away at high speed. After that, the vampire glared at Elena, obviously meaning that she had no idea about how dangerously stupid and useless her idea was.

The young woman only shrugged, not a bit interested with his opinion.

Damon and Alaric shared a look, wondering how stuborn the girl could be.

At some point Damon pushed her in a river. Ric watched their antics for a while before remembering them that not only they weren't here for fun, but they also had a very important curfew to observe. After all, those who didn't observe the curfew were likely to be torn into pieces by supernatural wolves.

Later, they encountered someone that was more close to a something. The someone / something tried to kill Damon, so obviously Alaric walked in and, to Elena's great surprise, strangled the someone / something into unconsciousness. The girl looked oddly at the hunter as he didn't struggle so much while the someone / something was struggling to get free. She almost forgot to hand him the vervain darts when he asked her, too surprised for her own good.

"Elena. The darts. Please."

The young woman blinked, and finally stung the someone / something with the vervain, hoping it'd slow him down if he were to wake up any time soon.

Ric took a deep breath, let go of his prisoner, and felt he'd have muscle cramps the day after.

"I don't know what he is, but this guy is strong."

Damon kicked said guy, and immediately rued his action. Said guy opened his eyes, jumped at his throat, and backed off only because of the wolfsbane grenade Damon had shoved in his face. The vampire thanked Elena for tossing it to him, and they tried to tie the someone / something to a tree with vervain soaked ropes and chains.

The someone / something was most likely a hybrid, and from the look of it, Damon mused with amusement that Klaus' experiments weren't going so well. The hybrid the Original had tried to create was weeping blood, and if he was definitely more dangerous than a normal werewolf or vampire, he was also seemingly rabid.

"You're alright, Damon?"

The vampire reassured his boyfriend that he hadn't been bitten anywhere, and rolled his eyes. He would have asked what the hunter could say about the hybrid's strength, but Elena was here too, and none of the two lovers wanted her to know of Alaric's condition.

"What about you?"

"Took him by surprise, I guess. He didn't hurt me, if that's what you're worried about."

The vampire sneered at that, not convinced at all. He was about to say something mean when they heard the not-so-unconscious-but-very-determined-to-off-them-all hybrid growling.

Alaric, Elena and Damon looked at each other, looked at the sun still visible in the sky, and looked at the transforming hybrid growling at them. They all decided it was better to run away.

They were running as fast as they could when Elena tripped and fell on the ground.

A wolf that was very likely to be the werewolf form of the hybrid stopped dead in his tracks and snarled at her nastily.

Ric took half a second to think, and walked between the two. The wolf snarled louder, as if he knew the man was more dangerous than any man would ever be. The hunter only glared at him. Surely, the wolf knew. There was no question about him knowing or not knowing.

It was all about who would move first.

In a fair fight of strength and skills, Alaric knew he had no chance of winning. The werewolf was only a wolf, so skills were not important in this case, but he was every inch of a supernatural wolf with tremendous strength and fangs and claws. Alaric wasn't armed or prepared for that right now.

But if the wolf moved first, he could strike back. If Ric moved first... he was doomed.

"Elena, you run as fast as you can."

"But..."

"I'll be just behind you. But for us to survive, you need to go and not to look behind, no matter what."

The girl reluctantly left, and the wolf moved. The hunter stabbed him in the stomach, not that it did much good with his regenerative abilities, and shouted at Damon to lure the hybrid away. As soon as the vampire started running, Ric took back his knife and did just the same.

The wolf hesitated one second but eventually went after the vampire.

When Alaric reached the car, Elena was already inside. She watched him oddly as he got in. Then she complained about leaving Damon behind to lure the hybrif away. Ric cringed but told her they didn't really have a choice. Of course, a werewolf's, and therefore a hybrid's, bite was lethal to a vampire, and Damon was a vampire, but being ripped into pieces by the hybrid was as lethal and would have likely been their fate if Damon hadn't distracted the monster.

Then Elena started to talk about things Ric didn't listen to, too worried about his boyfriend not coming back. When she put a Gilbert ring in his hand, though, he started to listen. The hunter had to give it to her, she was stuborn, and she cared about him.

And, well, a ring that protected him from supernatural deaths could come in handy if any of his inner feelings about Klaus were to be proven right. So Alaric put it back on his finger, remembering how John Gilbert had asked for it and how he had given it to him with a light chuckle. He really had been angry at the time, and had frightened the man more than he deserved to be.

There was a time of silence while Elena looked at him with squinted eyes.

Finally, she spoke.

"Caroline told me something strange a few days ago."

Ric's upper lip twitched.

"Really, and what was it?"

Elena's voice was accusatory, with a hint of mischief in it.

The hunter wished Damon and him had silenced the blond vampire when they had had the chance.

"She asked me if I'd mind that one of our high school teachers was dating a vampire. And I know for sure she wasn't talking about herself, because she's definitely going after Tyler."

Alaric said nothing.

Elena gave him a pointed look.

"She said that?"

Another pointed look.

"Fine. Damon and I are going out."

Elena was gobsmacked. She didn't know what she had expected, but that wasn't it. She had thought so, right, Damon and Alaric... but she had believed Caroline had been jocking.

Damon opened the passenger door and they left the Smoky Mountains in silence.


	48. EAM, part 16: The Falkenbachs and the cu

_A regular evening at the Mystic Grill. Regular. Mystic Grill. Regular evening._  
 _Oh well. Don't worry, nobody dies._

 _For now._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 16: The Falkenbachs and the cutlery**

When Damon walked in the Mystic Grill, the day after the trip to the Smoky Mountains, Alaric was already drinking at the bar counter. The vampire joined him and asked for a bourbon, as usual.

"Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

The hunter gave him a doubtful look.

"You're short of pick up lines or what?"

"Or what."

"I see... Small talk put aside, anything worthy of my interest?"

Damon shrugged. For now, Mystic Falls was quiet.

For now.

Ric took a sip of alcohol, and eyed two mens wearing black suits who were precisely doing the same thing, observing the customers. Intrigued, Damon followed his gaze, and frowned at the two very FBI-cliché men.

"Are they real?"

Alaric gave him a jaded look. Decidedly, his boyfriend was giving him many looks lately.

"No, they're porcelain dolls."

"Alright, I get it. You're trying to be an ass."

"Not trying. Succeeding."

"Whatever."

Alaric took another sip of bourbon, sighed, kept his eyes closed for almost one minute, opened them and went back to staring at the two FBI agents. The Falkenbach in him was surely taking a nap, Damon mused, because there was no way he could have been more obvious.

"Ric, talk to me, I know you're brooding about something right now. My brother is the brooding king, I know what I'm talking about. So talk."

The hunter asked for a second drink, and his gaze went over every customer in the damn place. Now that the vampire thought about it, it was a bit like he was searching for someone.

Ric sighed once again, and Damon seriously thought of strangling him with the bartender's tea towel. After all, now, he could. Alaric had the Gilbert ring. Well, there was still the issue of the witnesses and the sheriff deputy that had just left the Grill's bathroom and the two FBI agents eating their meal only two meters away.

"I was thinking..."

"I had guessed that much."

A discreet punch on the leg made the vampire's smug smile disappear. Damon decided to listen. He had asked for it, after all.

"As I was saying before you interrupted me, I was wondering where the hell Gal is. Elena told me she was still in town, and I looked for her to help and deal with the Theodoric problem, but she's nowhere to be found. Now, we have the two clowns on the lookout, and I'm sure Theo won't take much longer to break free. We're having enough supernatural problems without adding up some serial killer issues."

The vampire nodded, thoughtful, and looked quickly at the two agents. He had forgotten how the FBI sometimes looked into the serial killers cases. Since Ric's cousin had certainly used the Sobriety Merchant's modus operandi in many states, and maybe even in other countries, it made sense for the black suits to be here.

"So you're planning to ask your vampire ancestor to help you with your cursed hitman of a cousin?"

"More or less."

"Not a bad idea. But I'm sorry, I don't have the slightest idea where she is. Last time I saw her, she was telling me how I should go after you for both our sakes."

Alaric arched an eyebrow at the comment, a bit surprised by Galswinthe's actions, but eventually stayed silent and looked away. Curious, Damon took another look at the FBI agents, and quickly understood they weren't the cause of Ric's behavior.

Theodoric had just came in, and was walking towards them with an unpleasant smile on his face. Two young women started to giggle as he passed by their table. The young man cast a sidelong glance at the two men, who squinted their eyes when they saw him. They had that look, that they thought they had already seen him before, but couldn't remember when or where.

Ric's cousin took a seat right next to his relative, and asked for a beer.

Damon groaned in dissatisfaction.

The younger Saltzman looked at him curiously, but the vampire waved his hand.

"Don't mind me. I know everything about you little family secret, and Ric is not in jail, so you really can talk about any murderous feelings without fear."

The hunter glared at his boyfriend, as he could say as much about the vampire. Even if sending Damon to jail wouldn't do any good, with the compulsion and everything. Then he glared at his cousin, still angry with the trick Theo had played on him two days before.

Theodoric shrugged, and drank some of his beer.

"Landyn wouldn't approve of anyone knowing, Alaric."

The hunter's glare became murderous.

"Says the one who brought the police on our trail with his hobbies. Besides, you brought the FBI with you in my town, so I don't give a fuck about what you think. As for Landyn, she has things more important to do than to silence Damon. And even if she tried..."

Damon grinned at the suspicious Falkenbach sitting next to his favorite Falkenbach.

"You Saltzmans aren't the only ones with dirty little secrets. I know yours, Ric knows mine. And be careful, he's feeling grumpy today."

Alaric punched the vampire, in the guts this time, as discreetly as he could. Damon still growled, for the punch hadn't been light. Granted, the hunter was a bit more than grumpy.

"Aside from that, your two days off were enjoyable?"

Theodoric squinted his eyes, realizing the black haired man sitting next to his cousin knew about his... forced leave. He wondered if that meant he also knew about the reason behind the forced leave. As Ric had mentioned the FBI not long before, he mused that yes, the man called Damon knew about the murder. He remembered how Damon had been with Alaric when he had greeted his cousin at the party the other day. There was something he didn't know, and Theo didn't like that.

He cast a glace at his cousin, only to meet an angry glare.

"If only it could have taught him a lesson..."

"It did. I now know how to undo a knot with my hand tied and an oyster knife."

Alaric rolled his eyes, not bothering anymore with the intended thickness Theo was displaying.

"I don't know about you, Damon, but I'm leaving. There are people I can't bear in this bar."

"Coming."

The vampire gulped the last of his bourbon and made a move to leave and follow his boyfriend. He couldn't say he liked Ric's cousin, to say the least. Once again, the young man was too much like the bastard / switched-off version of himself.

But as he stood up, Damon's eyes fell on the back of a man he didn't know, who wasn't from Mystic Falls, and who had the Falkenbach scar on his left shoulder. He instantly stopped dead in his tracks, and searched for Alaric's eyes.

The hunter met his gaze and looked discreetly at the man as this one was sitting down on a bar stool.

Of course, Theodoric did exactly the same, and the three adults found themselves staring dumbfounded at an unknown man's shoulder. Neither Ric nor Theo had the slightest idea who he was, it was written all over their face, and yet what were the odds someone who wasn't a Saltzman had this particular scar?

After a while they sat back at the bar counter, as everyone else in the Grill was looking at them curiously. Amongst the spectators of this strange scene were the two FBI agents. It was definitely not the time to attract their attention. The only one who hadn't turned his head to look at them was the stranger himself.

He was dressed in a sporty fashion, track pants and sleeveless shirt, the reason why they had been able to see the scar. Medium length black hair, styled backwards, and cold grey eyes. A jaw that was much like Alaric's and his father's, lots of eyelashes as Theo, dimpled chin. A gaze to freeze the Arctic Ocean.

The man finished his whiskey and finally looked at them.

"Do I know you? You seem oddly familiar."

Damon watched the conversation cautiously, ready to act if he needed to, though he had no idea what to do if anything happened, because he had not the slightest clue about what the stranger could do. This man was utterly unreadable as if... as a Falkenbach. Right.

Theodoric spoke first, after having exchanged a wary look with his cousin. For once, they agreed about something, mused Damon. He had to remind his boyfriend of this one day, he simply had to.

"I fear not. But since you're asking... your scar is quite interesting. You did it yourself?"

"Oh, no. My father did. Family tradition."

"Strange... I'm sure I saw one just like yours, and the guy said the exact same thing."

The man suddenly tensed, and eyed the two cousins with attention. Behind them, Damon shook his head, indicating clearly that he had nothing to do with this... and also that he knew there was a hidden question behind the intensive examination.

The bartender came to them asking if they wanted anything else. The man turned his head to the teenager, surely working here for the holidays, and looked him in the eyes.

"You never noticed us. Go back to the other customers."

And surprisingly, the teenager complied, frowning as if he had forgotten why he had come to this part of the counter, when there was obviously no customer to serve here.

Theodoric was bemused at what he had just seen. Alaric and Damon, not so much. They shared a concerned look, and the hunter carefully asked if the stranger was perhaps looking for a person named Klaus.

The man's gaze became even colder than before, murderous, and definitely not pleasant.

"Theo, you leave now."

Alaric's voice had disturbed a nasty silence, and an even more perplexed than before Theodoric. The hunter's eyes had gone cold, deadly and menacing as well. The stranger watched Ric with renewed interest as the older of the two cousins was taking the lead.

Of course, the youngest didn't take it well, and started arguing, but eventually Damon compelled him to leave, barely avoiding a fork aimed at his left hand. What was the thing between the Falkenbachs and the cutlery, he didn't know, but he had a feeling even a spoon was a deadly weapon if put in their hands.

Once Theo had unwillingly-but-forced-to-comply left the Mystic Grill, the unknown man, who wasn't so unknown if Ric's hunch was right, watched the cursed man and the vampire in front of him with curiosity and animosity. They had talked about Klaus, after all.

"A vampire, and one of my descendant, I take it? What's your name, by the way?"

As Ric stayed stubbornly silent, his boyfriend rolled his eyes and took it upon himself to make introductions.

"Damon Salvatore. The merry man over there is Alaric Saltzman, and the youngster who just left is his cousin, Theodoric Saltzman. Are we wrong to guess your name is Hans Falkenbach?"

The man, or more accurately, the vampire, seemed to relax a bit, and Damon thought it was for the better if they could talk to him without using any kind of violence. Hans Falkenbach was way older, hence stronger, than him, and he was a freaking Falkenbach. Galswinthe had told the younger vampire that even Klaus feared her husband, and it was obvious why. Even though Hans wouldn't be able to kill the Original... Well, he could do much more than any regular vampire.

The vampire was a freaking Falkenbach.

That thought only was enough to give Damon the chills.

And an appropriate desire to run away, very, very fast.

Hans nodded. He was that person.

"Now, from what I know, Klaus was here not long ago. As I swore I'd make his life a living hell, would you be so kind as to tell me where I can find him?"

Alaric winced at the name of the Original, and pure loathing pervaded his usually controlled face. If the man and his ancestor had anything in common, beside the jaw, obviously, it was their hatred for Klaus, a vampire who had the disturbing habit of destroying other people's lives.


	49. EAM, part 17: Death, betrayal, and solit

**_Erm, of course, the note was about AO3, because people can't stop reviewing here when they haven't even began, can they? *Evil and saddening voice* And they won't ever do it, you sorry excuse for a human being!_**

* * *

 _So. Someone stopped commenting, and now I can't find the desire to write this anymore. I'm sad. It's all your fault._  
 _This story is now discontinued._

 _And that was a joke._  
 _Seriously, though, last week I was being lazy, and this week I didn't have access to the Internet._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 17: Death, betrayal, and solitude**

Without warning, Alaric's glass broke in his hand. Damon thought it'd be best if the hunter could control his strength, for it was already the second time it happened. Though he could understand that the mention of Klaus, the Original Bastard, would anger his boyfriend. He was even surprised anything of the sort hadn't happened sooner.

The vampire sighed, looked around in search of prying eyes, and was highly displeased to see that they had gotten the attention of the two agents. As if they hadn't enough problems without them.

"If you don't mind, it'd be better if we leave."

Hans was a bit reluctant, but he followed them outside nonetheless. Whether it was out of good will or because it'd be easier to ask for information if he didn't do something unadvised, Damon had no idea. But at least, they were outside. If the Falkenbach vampire was still on a repressed rampage, he'd have less potential victims outside the Mystic Grill than inside.

Or Damon hoped so. After all, a group of teenagers could very well be dumb enough to leave the Grill just when there was an unstable vampire killing machine ready to do anything to get Klaus' location. And that's exactly what they did. Granted, they didn't know about the unstable-vampire-killing-machine-ready-to-do-anything-to-get-Klaus'-location bit, so they couldn't be called dumb. Unlucky was more like it.

Watching out for the bunch of high schoolers, and since when was Damon Salvatore the thoughtful one?, the vampire led the two Falkenbachs away from the Grill's front door. No precaution was unnecessary right now.

"Right, so, Klaus."

Alaric's teeth gnashed once more, while Hans' features became even more full of hate.

Damon ignored them, wondering how in hell he was to avoid a killing spree. The fact that Hans had been desiccating for years thanks to the Original Bastard and one of his brothers, if what Gal had told him was right, couldn't be good. If Damon had been left to desiccate for so long, and several times at that, he'd be out for blood. So it was totally understandable, if Hans Falkenbach wanted to take a few lives out of anger, and, presumably, out of madness.

It being understandable didn't make the thing more acceptable. The ones who would perish under the older vampire's hand and, quite possibly, teeth, surely wouldn't be happy with dying. The fact that Hans was more than likely half-crazy wasn't reassuring, at all. The vampire was something like the epitome of dangerous, in the same league as the Original Bastard and his Original siblings, and that when he wasn't even almost immortal like the Originals Douchebags.

And Damon wouldn't put it past him to kill even his own blood, that is, Ric, in a fit of rage.

That was crazyness for you.

"First of all, we don't have any idea where the Original Bastard currently is; and believe me when I say that we'd want to know, since he kind of enslaved my little brother three months ago. All I can say, is, East Coast. Also, we're not trying to delay you in any way. Klaus got many people we cared about killed, including Ric's girlfriend, and he's still a threat for some of us. Last thing but not least, you might want to know that he finally broke the curse."

Hans had become more and more cold as Damon had said his tirade, but at the last sentence, the older vampire froze, looking more thoughtful than menacing all of a sudden.

"You're saying that Klaus is finally a hybrid?"

The younger vampire nodded, keeping an eye on his boyfriend who still had to talk. Alaric looked pale beyond what was humanly possible, but he seemed to have calmed down a bit.

Hans sighed loudly, and let himself rest against the closest wall. He almost seemed happy.

"So he killed the Petrova Doppelganger... and now, he's the only one of his kind."

No, Damon corrected his thoughts. The older Falkenbach didn't look happy. He looked thrilled.

Why, the younger vampire had no idea.

"Excuse me, but why is it so important?"

Ric's voice startled his boyfriend.

Hans looked at his umpteenth time grandson, a delighted smile on his lips. It was as if he had finally gotten something he had waited for for centuries. As if there couldn't be a better gift than to know that Klaus was the only hybrid ever, despite the fact that he was even more unkillable now, and twice as deadly.

If it was such great news, such a sweet revenge on the Original Hybrid, Alaric wanted to know why, and, if possible, to be delighted as well. He had too much to blame Klaus for, even the slightest hint of revenge would be great.

His ancestor's eyes locked on his own, and the man was surprised to find this much hatred in the vampire's eyes. But it was only normal. After all, the Falkenbach had had centuries to nurture his anger towards Klaus.

"The thing is, there are three things only that Klaus fears: death, betrayal, and solitude. Now, death is still within our grasp, though it has only become more difficult to kill him. Becoming a hybrid, for him, was a way to keep death as far away as he could. But it wasn't the only goal. Klaus is terrified by betrayal, always fearing that his siblings will abandon him, and so he is unsufferable and not willing to allow them any freedom, thus causing them to dislike him and abandon him. It's pretty ironic, actually, and he can't even see that. Being a hybrid, the one and only Original Hybrid, is a way for him to gain servants more loyal than any vampire could be, because if Klaus manage to freed other werewolves from the grip of the moon, they would surely become so grateful that a sire bond will be created. Now, the only thing left, solitude..."

The older vampire smiled, and this smile gave the younger vampire chills so cold and marked that Damon felt like his skin was trying to get the hell out of here without him. Last time he had seen this kind of heartless, humanity-deprived smile, it was on a Saltzman. He wasn't sure whether it had been Ric or Theo, but it was definitely a Saltzman.

Even a switched-off vampire couldn't equal this level of inhumanity. With a switched-off vampire, there was humanity, somewhere deep in their heart, not much, but there was some. They showed the obnoxious, greedy, hateful side of humanity. But it was still humanity.

A Falkenbach, a Saltzman, couldn't switch on and off. It simply wasn't there, as Alaric had told him one day. No guilt, no sick pleasure, nothing behind the kill, behind the smile. They could hurt, torture someone... and they were still empty.

But because they were human, though cursed, their mind reminded them that it wasn't right. The part of their heart that knew what a feeling was like sent it to the mind. Of course, it could only be by cold and heartless, awfully logical means; but it was better than nothing.

Hans Falkenbach wasn't human. He was a vampire.

A mad, bloodthirsty in the most literal way, not bothered by human ethics, vampire, who, because he was a Falkenbach, hadn't any feelings to oppose the lack of ethics.

Why the freaking hell Klaus had made this guy an ennemy, Damon had no idea. What he knew, was that he himself would never have made this mistake. He didn't have a death wish, after all.

Hans, even though he had freaked the hell out of Damon, hadn't finished.

"Solitude. Something any almost immortal being can rightfully fear. Something that Klaus, because he has such a temper that no one wants to stick with him for long, fears more than death and betrayal. His family has been at a breaking point for centuries, and last time I was around, Elijah had finally decided it was too much, while their two brothers and their sister had been dealed with by Klaus. The Original Hybrid is as alone as one can be, even if he sometimes takes a liking to some vampire, witch or even werewolf. If he can make others like him, though, and if they are, as he believes they will be, sired to him, Klaus will never ever be alone anymore. He won't be the one and only hybrid out there, and the others will never leave him unless they are killed."

Damon glanced at Ric, wondering what the hunter thought of all that, and not exactly sure of what to think of it himself, but his boyfriend had his poker-face on.

"The thing is, the witch who cursed him put a security measure on the curse. Hybrids such as Klaus are beings that shall never be according to the balance of nature. Yet, Klaus is. Now that he has unleashed his werewolf side with the ritual, the only way for him to make other hybrids would be by feeding his blood to werewolves, killing them, then feeding them the doppelganger's blood to finish the transition. And since he had to kill the Petrova doppelganger in order to finish the ritual..."

And the older vampire laughed a cold and heartless smile.

Klaus had destroyed his only hope to ever get what he wanted.

The thing was, Damon thought while doing his best not to exchange a panicked look with Ric, that Elena was alive thanks to John's sacrifice. If Klaus discovered this little secret...

As for him, Alaric wasn't pleased at all.

If he hadn't known Elena, if he hadn't known she was alive, he'd have been despicably happy at the piece of news. But the girl was alive, and certainly bound to be sought after by the Original Bastard if what his ancestor was saying was true.

Yes, the hunter could go and finish what Klaus had started by killing Elena, but he was sure the human part of his soul wouldn't have liked that at all.

"Does Klaus know about the security measure?"

Certainly not, or he wouldn't have tried to turn the pack in the Smoky Mountains. But since Hans knew, it couldn't hurt to be sure.

The vampire waved the question away.

"He doesn't. Even if I had wanted to tell him, he wouldn't have believed me. And even if he knew, it's not like the girl is alive anymore, is it? He'll have to wait for the next doppelganger, to whom I'll happily spare the life of a blood bag as soon as I'll find her, and the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He and his brother took away my reason for living, I don't see why I shouldn't do the same to them."

Ric, poker-face still on, looked at his boyfriend, internally praying that the younger vampire wouldn't give Elena's survival away.

At that precise moment, he would have given evereything that was his, and maybe even what wasn't, so that Hans' "reason for living" would just think it the best time to come around and surprise her husband, because, you know, she was alive, and had been searching for her half-definitely-crazed Falkenbach vampire since forever.

To the man's utter surprise, his wish came true.

But in the worst way possible.

Alaric's cellphone rang, catching the hunter's and both vampires' attention.

He took it out of his pocket, half-aware that it was Elena's phone calling him, and so, surely, Elena calling him. Picking up the call, he hoped that Hans wouldn't recognize the doppelganger's voice. Freaking vampires and their super-hearing.

"What's up?"

The hunter really tried to sound as normal as he could.

It didn't work well, if Damon's wince was anything to go by.

He was fortunate to be a Saltzman, or he'd have been ever more obvious, Alaric mused.

 _"Ric, there's a woman who's asking about you. I tjink I saw her once or twice at the Mystic Grill, lately. Blond, in her twenties, thirties at most."_

Hans squinted his eyes as he tried to remember where and when he had heard this voice.

Damon's eyes grew wide and round as plates. The hunter took it that it'd be better if he shortened the call as much as he could, before his ancestor managed to identify the caller as the Petrova doppelganger that he had so eagerly said it'd be a pleasure to dispose off only minutes before.

 _"She said her name was Gal, and that you knew each other..."_

The small hope that Hans would notice his wife's diminutive was short-lived, since the vampire didn't react at all, still frowning as he tried to remember. Ric guessed he had believed his wife to be dead for too long to actually be able to believe otherwise without seeing her eye to eye.

"Listen, tell her I'm coming, and go back home, Elena. Where are you right now?"

The answer made the man's guts roll on themselves.

 _"Not far away from the Grill. Wait, I can see you."_

The call ended, and Alaric spined on his heels to see Elena walking towards him, waving to a figure too far away to distinguish their features.

Galswinthe, the man thought.

Too late, though.

Hans had seen the doppelganger, and recognized her, and his gaze had completely ignored Gal.


	50. EAM, part 18: Their inhumanity glaringly

**_And that's it for tonight. There are still five already written chapters waiting to be posted ( tomorrow ), and after that, you'l have to wait for me to write the damn thing. I'll try to finish "Each a monster" before the end of the year... perhaps... I hope._**

* * *

 _Blood! Blood everywhere! Damn you, Hans! But don't worry, Gal and I still love you._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 18: Their inhumanity glaringly exposed for all to see**

Hans' eyes widened when he saw her.

The girl was the Petrova doppelganger. Somehow, she hadn't died. Somehow, she was still alive. And if she was still alive...

Klaus could create other hybrids.

If the Original Bastard wasn't already doing so, he might not know yet. But one day, sooner rather than later, he'd hear about the girl. He'd come back, he'd kill anyone who stood in his way, and that included Alaric and his friend, since they were obviously trying to help the girl. He'd come back and destroy many more lives. Because that what the Originals did. They destroyed everything one could hold dear.

They always did.

The life of a girl, the life of the doppelganger, or the lives of innocents?

It wasn't even about his revenge.

Sure, he wouldn't complain if it allowed him to get back at Klaus. There was nothing that mattered more than his revenge. But that didn't mean that his decision couldn't be for the best whatever his own feelings were.

The doppelganger had to die.

A glint of madness disappeared behind a much stronger gleam in the vampire's eyes.

Alaric saw this, and his blood ran cold. He knew that look. He knew that gleam. He had had the same in his own eyes many times before. And that hadn't bode well for anyone.

He had seen it even more often in Theo's eyes. A couple of times in other family members', too. Landyn had been frightening, the two times he had seen her with that look. But the worst of all had been his father, Edward. Only once he had seen his father ready to kill someone, and though Edward Saltzman hadn't acted upon it, it had made Ric understand that for all the differences between his father and those from the main house, the man was still a Satzman.

And a Saltzman was a natural born killer. Even when they decided to ignore it.

Hans had certainly not ignored it. And that look in his eyes, there was no mistaking it.

It wasn't even a real gleam... It was so much more, and so much less at the same time. There was no light, no illumination on the face of a determined Falkenbach. It wasn't about passion, it wasn't about hatred. For them, the look in their eyes, it was something so bright and fierce that sometimes, the hunter wished he could be blind rather than seeing it.

Because that look in his ancestor's eyes, it was their inhumanity glaringly exposed for all to see.

The thought bolted in his mind, horrific in its clarity.

Hans would kill Elena as soon as he wanted to. And no one could stop him.

Alaric walked between the vampire and the doppelganger without thinking of the consequences, only thinking that it was the thing to do. His mind had gone in battle-mode, even though he knew very well that he couldn't outdo Hans Falkenbach.

The pain in his body was terrible as a hand pierced his skin, going so much faster than any human hand could go. Hans had aimed for the heart, and the hunter being taller than Elena, the attack had stricken right between his two lower left ribs.

Who said that a Saltzman's instincts were for him to stay alive? No one ever. Alaric's intincts were meant to help him achieve his goal. Even if he had to lose his life in the process.

He stared at his ancestor's face. Hans still seemed cold and inhuman, his face hadn't moved an inch, but Ric knew better. If the vampire really wasn't affected with harming his own blood, then he wouldn't have stopped. Hans would have pierced through the man who had put himself in the way, and his hand would have ripped Elena's heart out of her chest.

The vampire could do that.

Ric knew he could.

His ancestor had the strength, the determination and the capacities to do just that. Luckily he didn't seem to have the mind to do it.

But he could have done it.

Because he was more then seven hundreds years old, because he was a vampire, because he was a Falkenbach. And killing wasn't a bid deal for any of those aspects of his personality.

Alaric's eyes then wandered to Damon.

The younger vampire had frozen the moment everyone had moved. Ric's movements weren't so fast compared to Hans', or even Damon's, but his boyfriend had done nothing to stop him, because he hadn't understood. He hadn't understood what was going on, he hadn't understood what the older vampire was going to do. And even if he had, there had been nothing he could do.

He wasn't fast, strong, old enough to antagonize Hans without losing his life right away. If the older vampire might have had a soft spot for someone here, it'd have been his own fesh and blood, not some random vampire he had just met.

Alaric had known that, and had acted, because he was the most likely one to stop his ancestor, and maybe, not to die in the process.

Maybe.

If possible, the hunter'd rather not die this time, even if he had the ring on his finger. Dying was painful, and a hassle, and not fun at all. And there was also the fact that someone could pass by, see him being killed, and leave screaming to rouse the whole neighborhood before anyone could compel him to shut up and forget.

Blood dripped from his clothes, from his wound, from his stomach, outside of his body, on the ground, on Hans' arm that was still half in his stomach, inside his body, around the other organs, in one word, in every place where it wasn't meant to be.

Ric felt a bit dizzy, but his mind was still focused. He wasn't a bloody Saltzman for nothing, he thought, inwardly smirking at the horrid pun.

He saw Damon becoming paler than ever, he heard Elena gasping behind him, he felt as Hans was struggling not to take his arm out right away and aggravate the wound, not to lett it bled all out in a single minute. He heard someone, a vampire, rushing to his side in a blur.

And he closed his eyes.

To die or not to die, that is the question.

Well, not so much.

He felt the coldness of the Gilbert ring on his finger.

And that was it.

He really, really needed to sleep. To shut down the pain.

Hans blinked as he saw his umpteenth time grandson fall in his arms, or, more accurately, slide down his arm. He should have known, with one of his own around, that it couldn't go well. That somehow, unless this particular Falkenach was one of the cold-blooded bastards, he wouldn't let him kill a girl without an explanation.

Something unpleasantly cold grasped his internal organs, with a touch that froze everything in him, his feelings and perceptions, the physical and the spiritual, not the way it froze when he let his Falkenbach side win over his morality, but in a way he had experienced only twice.

The death of his daughter, and the death of his wife.

A touch on his arm, a scent near him, a voice in his ear, broke the ice that was invading his being.

"Hans, love, let him go."

And the vampire saw his wife, his beautiful, amazing, wonderful Galswinthe.

Gal wasn't supposed to be alive, to be here, even less to talk to him. Kol had killed her, "to stir up trouble". Many, many decades ago. Centuries ago.

But she was here, and he did was she told him to do.

Galswinthe sighed when Hans obeyed her, still looking like the world was going to collapse under him, under her, under everything, and that then the world was going to end. She'd have to deal with him. Later.

For now, Alaric was dying on the ground, a gaping hole between his ribs, blood flowing out of his punctured stomach, and she couldn't have that. Of all her scions, he was one of those who deserved the less to die.

She looked around, and as always, the men were useless. Rolling her eyes, she ignored the thunderstruck Hans and the pale-as-death Damon, and only glanced at the young girl already kneeling down next to Alaric, her hands on the wound to stop the blood flow.

Gal winced, suddenly fully aware of what had happened. Hans had recognized the doppelganger as soon as he had seen her, and as Elena was the luckiest girl in the universe, she just had to meet the vampire who wanted her death more than even Klaus had wanted her for his ritual.

The vampire took a deep breath and bit into her wrist, before feeding Ric her blood.

She really hoped it would suffice to keep him alive. One Falkenbach vampire was enough to deal with, thank you very much.

If not... Well, it'd be the teacher's choice, she mused while glancing at Damon. Ric didn't strike her to be the type to become a vampire, but if he accidentaly became one, she wasn't sure he wouldn't accept, if only to be with his boyfriend a bit longer than expected.

She looked back at the wound, arching an eyebrow at Elena, who quickly understood and withdrew her hands, ready to press onto the wound again if it wasn't any better. The two women watched for a second the gaping hole reverting back to an almost flawless skin, only drenched in blood. Gal breathed in relief, and frowned. Her eyes wandered on the teacher's torso, and she sweared.

"The wound isn't gone! It's smaller, but it's still here. Damn it!"

The was a little hole almost invisible in the pool of blood, but it was here, fleecing slowly, almost gently, and if she hadn't seen it, they could have left the man to bleed to death without meaning it.

"You have a witch around here, don't you? Bring her to Alaric's apartment while we'll take him there. Vampire blood can only help him so much, and this time I believe it won't be enough."

Elena nodded and left running for Bonnie.

Hans and Damon stared dumbly at Galswinthe as she stood up.

"What the freaking hell are you waiting for?! I can't just put him on my shoulder like a potato bad when he's injured! One of you two morons go and fetch a car, and faster than that!"

Hans blinked, opened his mouth to talk, but she snapped at him.

"You almost killed your grandson, you idiot! Now you shut up, and you do what I order you to."

Grandson, great-great-great-...-grandson, whatever.

Gal was pleased to see Damon disappear to his car, while her own husband was staring at her dumbfounded and covered in blood.

"Honestly, men are useless, sometimes."

At that, Hans stopped trying to talk to her, obviously hurt, but also painfully aware that she was right. And for now, she thought it was for the best, because his past actions, and not only nearly killing Ric, but all that he had done since their daughter's death, had made her very angry with him.

Damon came back quickly, and they managed to put Alaric in the car so that he wouldn't bleed all over it, not that, for once, Damon minded, but because it would be better if the hunter could survive the ride.

Alaric's apartment was closer than the boarding house or the hospital, but climbing the stairs wasn't easy with a bleeding and unconscious man. Nevertheless, they succeeded.

When Elena came back with Bonnie, the young witch seemed completely panicked, but she managed just well until the moment her skin touched her teacher's.

Bonnie blanched.

Damon realized she had never came into physical contact with Ric, and wondered if Falkenbachs too triggered a special feeling for witches. Apparently, the answer was yes.

Galswinthe's upper lip twitched.

Hans suddenly came back to the land of consciousness.

Elena didn't understand a thing, and frankly, no one who didn't know that Alaric wasn't a regular human being wouldn't have either.

Bonnie stepped back, and run to the bathroom. There, she vomited everything that had once been in her stomach. Realization downed on her.

Alaric Saltzman wasn't just a normal human being, though she was sure he wasn't exactly supernatural either. And whatever he was, it triggered something more dreadful in her mind than even what the contact of a vampire would cause.

The young witch shivered, but went back to her patient. She'd ask later, once he'd be healed. But she'd ask.


	51. EAM, part 19: Waiting

**_Last massive update, and then, waiting for me to get back into mood and write the next chapters..._**

* * *

 _Somehow, I added a chapter without even noticing. Oh well. it'll be 39 chapters, then. Which means that I'm ( almost ) halfway done. Cheers!_

 _(cough)for this part(cough)_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 19: Waiting**

Damon was sitting on a chair, waiting.

That was all he could do.

To wait.

Alaric had almost died protecting Elena, and the vampire had only stood there, unable to do anything. Shock, fear, and mostly incomprehension. This couldn't be happening.

This couldn't have happened.

When Galswinthe had shouted at him, he had finally understood what was going on, but hadn't been able to do more than what he was ordered to do.

Alaric wasn't supposed to die. The man could take care of himself, and Damon could take care of his lover too. So how had it happened?

The young vampire saw Bonnie doing her witchy things on Ric, and he felt a pang of hope, as well as one of fear. The girl was powerful, he knew it, and she wouldn't let her teacher die if she could do otherwise. But the witch was young and inexperienced. She knew little of her powers, and could only do so much.

Damon saw the worried expression on Gal's face, as her eyes darted between her descendant and her husband. He saw Hans Falkenbach staring dumbly into nothingness, and anger seized his heart. The young vampire wanted to stand up, punch the older vampire and yell at him until he ran out of breath, that is, never. But he did no such thing. He was too dazed to do anything.

And the Falkenbach really seemed lost, so yelling at him wouldn't do any good. Now that he had his wife back he had no real reason to hate Klaus so much, even if he still didn't like him, after all, he had spent decades desiccated thanks to the Original. He had no reason to attack the Petrova doppelganger anymore. And he looked like a man who had just tried to kill his own flesh and blood and couldn't possibly comprehend how in hell that had happened.

Hans Falkenbach seemed to be a lot more okay than before. Damon wouldn't put him in the newly-turned-good-guys group yet, but there was definitely some progress. Before, the Falkenbach vampire had been creepy. Now, he was nothing more than a dangerous vampire with no reason to threaten anyone.

Someone sat next to Damon, and the vampire looked up, his eyes falling in two light brown eyes.

"You really care about him, don't you, Damon?"

Elena's voice was soft and caring, and the vampire didn't find it in him to argue that thinking the other way was the stupidest thing to do in the world. So he only nodded, glancing at the sleeping form of his boyfriend, laid on his bed with a witch trying to save his life. Soon enough, the vampire's eyes went back to Elena, because he didn't want to think that maybe, Ric could die this night.

The young woman looked at him fondly, and let a small smile creep up on her lips.

"You know, the first weeks I got to know you, I thought there was no way in hell that you'd ever remember what it was like to love someone. You were so engrossed with Katherine, getting her back and everything else, but you didn't really love her anymore, even then. Maybe, if you had freed her and her love had been genuine, and not that masquerade that we now know of, you could have learnt anew, I don't know. But then, you didn't love anyone anymore."

Damon said nothing.

Maybe Elena was right, Katherine had only been an obsession, as making his brother's life a living hell had been another one.

Maybe not.

But he knew that, even if maybe the girl wasn't completely right, she certainly wasn't exactly wrong eitherway. At a time, he had turned off his emotions, and when he had come back to Mystic Falls the year before, it still wasn't completely on.

Elena continued, speaking softly, because the room was full of vampires who could hear what she said anyway, and because that was nobody's business.

"And eventually, I saw you softening. Sure, you were still out killing people, but not as much, not as often, and rarely without a half-good reason. When you killed Ric, you didn't think he'd come back to life, but he did. And you two hated each other. But in the end, you were the only ones who could become friends with the other one. Alaric was broken because of Isobel, and he knew of things one should not know about, especially in Mystic Falls. You, Damon, you were broken because of Katherine, and you were one of those things that nobody should know about, especially in Mystic Falls. You two had only the other one to speak to."

A pale smile twisted the vampire's face. About this, she wasn't wrong at all. It was surprising that the so childish Elena could be so wise, as long as it did have nothing to do with herself, or her and Stefan, or her survival.

"Stefan, myself, Bonnie, we weren't right to talk to. I'm just a kid, compared to Alaric, and even more compared to you. Stefan isn't close to Ric and was completely wary of you, and I can't blame him for that, honestly. Bonnie is supernatural too, but she's as young as I am, and she rightfully hate you after what happened with her grandmother."

Yeah, Damon had to admit that he hadn't been keen on making friends at the time. But now, things were starting to become better, and he didn't want that to disappear.

This time, Ric had the ring. But one day, maybe he wouldn't have it anymore. Maybe there was a limited number of resurrections in the ring, maybe someone would take it away before killing the hunter, maybe...

Maybe one day Alaric would definitely die, and not of old age.

For the first time, Damon really thought of asking the teacher to become like him, to turn and be with him forever and ever. He dismissed the idea. It wasn't the right moment, the right person to talk to about this. And he was a bit insecure, that Alaric wouldn't accept.

Yes, he'd ask one day, but not now. He was going to wait, and maybe to prove to Ric that he was worth it, that they could have an eternity of happiness together, if only the hunter agreed to become a vampire. One day, he'd ask.

Elena's voice took him back to reality.

"If you love him, Damon, if you really love him, then do whatever is necessary for you two to be happy. For now, he hasn't been very lucky in love. Try to change that, because Ric deserves a bright future."

And that being said, the young woman walked away, taking a last look at her kind-of-father-in-law / closest-person-to-a-paternal-figure / history teacher before leaving. She sincerey hoped that for once, Damon wouldn't blow it all up.

After a while, Bonnie left, ignoring Damon and observing the two other vampires warily. She had bandaged the wound, and used her magic to fasten the healing and clear the inside of the hunter's body, since there was blood everywhere between his organs, and mostly where there should be none.

Obviously, they had had the right idea not the call for a doctor or send Ric to the hospital, because they'd certainly would have asked, A, why and how the local history teacher had been injured, and B, why he had so much internal damages when the wound was this little. And there was the fact that if Ric died at the hospital, that would be hell to compel everyone to forget about it once the hunter would have come back to life.

So there they were, three vampires, Damon Salvatore, Hans and Galswinthe Falkenbach, and the silence was unbearable.

After a while, Gal looked at her husband and asked, clearly upset, what the hell he had been thinking. The vampire looked sheepishly at his wife and responded that he hadn't been thinking, not for ages, not since the Original Vampire Kol had barged in a feast with Klaus, his other siblings, some other vampires, and a lot of bleeding humans. The Original had walked straight to Hans, and boasted about having met his wonderful wife that he had abandoned at their daughter's death. Hans had tried to ignore him, for he had always refused to acknowledge the issue and his distasteful behavior, but had failed when Kol had finally said that, being in a generous mood, he had fixed the problem by killing Galswinthe Falkenbach.

Damon listened, half-interested, half-worrying about the sleeping hunter, because he had nothing better to do except to worry about Alaric, which he was already doing.

"That's when I completely lost it, Gal, and you know me, I mean, you know how we are, me and my family, I've told you. I froze, and everything, everything went completely blank. It was the same with Leona's death. There was nothing that mattered anymore, so why should I bother with the consequences? We, the Falkenbachs, me, since I'm the only one, I'm not the same as the other vampires. There's no turn-humanity-off button. Maybe because we're, I'm already half-turned off. I grabbed the nearest vampire and literally sent him flying onto Kol. The poor guy was cut in half, but I couldn't care less. You weren't there anymore, and that was all that mattered. Love, one of those things that I can feel, was not anymore, but murder, torture, guilt, all those things that I can't feel, were still there. And I did what I do best."

Gal nodded. She knew what Hans did best.

"It was a carnage. I'm not sure how many died that night, but I know that Elijah and Klaus themselves had to step in to stop me. After that, they locked me up in a cell, and left me there to desiccate for years, decades even. And that was always the same thing. At some point, I'd escape, slaughter tens of vampires, werewolves, witches, wizards, humans alike. And then I'd calm down. And then I'd go mad once again, a word, a sentence about you, and I was back in the cell."

The vampire glanced at the man sleeping, in whom he recognized some of his own features.

"Have you..."

Galswinthe smiled a bit, a sad grin.

"Kept an eye on the family? Yes. They are the last of the Falkenbachs, you know? Your brother's and sisters' line died out sometime around the fourteenth century. One day, the family divided between the Falkenbachs, who stayed in Germany, and the Saltzmans, who started their own estranged branch here in America. The Falkenbachs eventually disappeared with the last great war in Europe."

Hans stared in front of him, understanding that he was the last one of his family to bear the name of Falkenbach. It wasn't sad, only a bit strange.

The vampire then turned to the younger one, still silent and watching over his descendant.

"His name is Alaric, isn' it?"

The question startled Damon, who blinked before nodding.

"Tell him I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

And Hans stood up, looking meaningfully at his wife. Gal nodded and he walked to the door.

Damon looked up at Galswinthe. The older vampire caressed her descendant's hair with the back of her hand, a soft smile on her lips, and sat on the bed next to Ric. She then turned to Damon.

"I'm staying in the motel out of town. I'm taking Hans with me. He needs to heal mentally, and that could take a while. Visit us when Alaric wakes up, and then, we'll be on our way."

"You need some time alone, don't you?"

Gal shrugged.

"I'm not sure how much. Visit, and we'll give you a way to contact us no matter where we are, as well as my phone number. I know what you're thinking about Ric, and if he says yes, or if the situation gives him no choice, you'll need help to deal with the turning. A Falkenbach doesn't become a regular vampire, as you heard. The switch, but also the feeding, it's really different for them."

Damon blushed a little.

"We're not there yet. And I don't think he wants it."

More like, he feared that Alaric wouldn't want it.

Gal walked to the door, and before leaving, said one more thing.

"He might change his mind. And you never know, if, as we were, he's forced to either die or turn, I believe he will take the opportunity to be with you, Damon. Eitherway, our second honey moon could as well be years long, so you're welcome to call once in a while."

And she shut the door quietly.

Damon went to sleep next to the hunter, trying to ignore the for-once-harsh smell of blood coming from Ric's wound. When he woke up the next day, Alaric was already up, as if nothing had ever happened. They took a quick breakfast, and Ric frowned as he smelled his cup of coffee.

When they arrived at the motel, Damon knocked on the door, and it opened on a very surprised Gal who looked at the coffee-drenched vampire in front of her. Alaric came in, ignoring his boyfriend.

"Don't be surprised if Damon stinks of cat pee; he poured some in my coffee, I returned the favor."


	52. EAM, part 20: Overall, the same thing

**Each a monster, part 20: Overall, the same thing**

Galswinthe moved to let her visitors in, frowning as she smelled the odd scent on Damon Salvatore. Apparently, Alaric had considered it fitting to pour his altered coffee on the offender. Strange how males could be childish, sometimes.

She closed the door behind her, and turned to see her husband sitting on the motel's bed and purposely avoiding his descendant's eyes, not that she couldn't understand his need to do so. Ric and Damon had taken the two chairs in the room and were looking at her.

Feeling that once again she had to do all the work, Gal rolled her eyes and sat next to Hans.

"How are you, Alaric?"

The hunter shrugged, saying that he had known worst. His ancestor raised an eyebrow, doubtful, but he wasn't going to tell her that he had already died twice. First, he didn't want to worry her, second, it wasn't a lack of trust or anything, but he'd rather keep the Gilbert ring a secret a bit more. Too many people already knew of it, and he didn't want to be killed more times than necessary, just because it wasn't such a big deal and it was easier to disable him this way.

An unpleasant silence took over the room, and after a while Gal forced her husband to look up at his great-great-great-add-a-number-grandson.

"I know it's dull and all, Hans, but you could at least say 'sorry'..."

She had that exasperated tone that totally meant he'd better not drag this on anymore. Hans Falkenbach knew his wife well enough and decided the apologies were worth the unease, while the unease wasn't worth Gal's anger.

He turned his daylight ring around his ring finger, looked up, looked back down, and finally his eyes met Alaric Saltzman's.

The only human in the room looked at Hans with renewed interest. Now that he knew the man was his ancestor, and now that he wasn't bothered with thoughts about how there was a psychopathic vampire with Falkenbachs' instincts in a bar full of unsuspecting humans, he could see the likeness in their features. Sure, the two Falkenbachs didn't have much in common, it was to be expected after seven hundred years. But Ric was a typical Saltzman, and as such a typical Falkenbach, as the photograph of Karl Falkenbach had previously proved.

The hunter and the vampire didn't look alike, but they looked like parts of a same family. Aside from one or two particular features that were obviously the same, their overall faces were like two versions of one basic idea, not exactly the same angles, not exactly the same color, but overall, the same thing.

"I didn't mean to."

Well, at least their voices had nothing to do with each other's.

Alaric was going to say that it didn't matter, really, while Damon was ready to be outraged and angry and unsufferable because hell, it was his boyfriend that the older vampire had almost killed just hours before, and Gal was staring stubbornly at the ceiling wondering how in all freaking hell she had gotten herself involved with those kinds of persons in the first place.

But Hans beat them to it.

"I mean, obviously I meant to kill the Petrova doppelganger, but I wasn't in my right mind, hadn't been in centuries, actually, and I know it not an excuse, but it's the truth, and I can't do better. And I certainly didn't mean to attack you, Alaric, that's it, isn't it? You are my blood, after all, and I don't kill just for the hell of it. Not anymore, at least. But when I'm angry I can be rather unstoppable. I'm really, really sorry."

He had mumbled his apologies all along, but somehow, everybody in the room had understood his mumbling, and the two visitors were staring at him as if he had grown a second head. Galswinthe merely smiled.

This wasn't the same Hans Falkenbach as before. The cold, inhumane feeling Damon, Theo and Ric had felt when they had first talked with the vampire, the dread that twisted their guts after the hunter had sent his cousin away, there was none of it when they listened to this Hans Falkenbach.

This Hans Falkenbach was a perfectly normal man, sorry, vampire, more normal than most of the vampires they had met thus far, and that included Damon who was anything but normal.

Finally, Alaric realized that his ancestor was nothing more than the usual Falkenbach. Normal, until he wasn't anymore. The one he had met at the Mystic Grill wasn't the usual Hans, but the Hans who used all of his Falkenbach abilities. The killer in him, that anger, hatred and revenge had pushed to the surface while burrying anything else.

Ric frowned. Had it been a switched off Falkenbach vampire? He wasn't sure. The hunter had seen, had talked to, had killed switched off vampires, and even if Hans was also a Falkenbach, it still didn't feel the same. Certainly, Hans had enjoyed the thought of hurting Klaus, destroying the Original Bastard from within, but not with the usual vampire detachment. After all, he genuinely wanted revenge. No switched off vampire wanted revenge. They could be gruesome to those that had wronged them, but because their pride had been wounded, and anyway they liked to see others be hurt.

And no switched off vampire cared for their dead wife that they hadn't seen in hundreds of years.

No, obviously, Hans Falkenbach had not switched off his emotions. It had only been the deepest hatred of a man whose wife had been killed, boosted with a bit of inhumanity. Nothing that Ric himself couldn't match.

"It doesn't matter, really. I don't resent you for that. Damon did worst at our first encounter, you know."

All eyes darted to the younger vampire, who just glared at his boyfriend with a half-amused, half-annoyed look on his face. Then Gal raised an eyebrow at her descendant, while Hans watched, a bit lost. In his defense, he didn't know of Ric's relationship with Damon, not in that way at least. If possible, his wife intended to keep it a secret for one or two months, for she didn't want to stir him too much.

"Alaric, what did he do exactly?"

"When I first met him, Damon was feeding on my wife."

Gal's eyes widened, and she tried to think back to the demise of one Isobel Flemming, to what Damon and Ric had told her about her vampiric return, and she frowned.

When the hunter noticed how Hans had tensed at the statement, he glanced at his boyfriend and thought it would do to smooth things a little if he didn't want a dead-dead vampire boyfriend instead of a kind-of-dead on.

And he liked Damon quite a lot. Kind-of-dead was way better than dead-dead.

"No one does murder anyone before I finish. Damon killed Isobel, so I went after him for two years to kill him, but he hadn't actually killed her, not in the definitive way at least, and she had chosen to disappear and leave me behind on her own, so I don't blame him the least about what happened."

Ric left out the part where he died for the first time, for he thought it wouldn't have been wise to do otherwise. He had seen the look in his ancestor's eyes when he had talked about a murdered wife, surely thinking of his own... misadventure. And for the first time, the teacher mused that their stories, while completely different, held many troubling similarities.

They talked a bit after that. Gal gave them her cellphone number. Hans asked what was a cellphone, his wife paled as she realized that he had not only missed most of the newest inventions and she'd have to teach him about it, but that he had been half-oblivious of everything that had happened even when he hadn't been locked up in an underground prison, too busy with his revenge. Sure, Hans had learned what he needed to adapt to the new world he bursted into each time, but nothing more. Gal was lucky that he knew what a dustbin was.

Ric and Damon were about to leave when Galswinthe stopped them with a slightly worried look on her face.

"I simply wondered, do you know of a good place to bury a corpse?"

Alaric blinked at that, and withdrew his hand from the door handle. This wasn't the kind of conversation he'd have outside.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"I met one of Klaus' vampires a while back, that he had left behing certainly to 'watch out for something suspect' or anything else the paranoid Original could think of, and well, with Elena being supposedly, you know, dead, I thought it'd be better to get rid of him. Beside, the guy had his emotions turned off, and was feasting like crazy in the nearest towns. With Mystic Falls being Myst Falls, I tought it'd be wiser to simply... off him."

And better for the humans too. There was a world between feeding and slaughtering.

Damon and Ric looked at each other, certainly worried about the possibility of another spy reporting Elena's survival to Klaus. Gal quicky reassured them.

"So, I buried the body in the forest, and went looking for others. That's why you didn't see me much lately. I actually found a second one, sent by Klaus just to check on things, you should have one month before he does that again, yesterday, but when I went to get rid of the first one, I was almost caught by a sheriff deputy. With them taking vervain, I can't do much, and if you know of a better, safer place..."

The hunter nodded, thoughtful. If they were a bit lucky, Klaus hadn't ordered to his lackeys to report if there was nothing to say, just to go and live their lives. The Original didn't really care about most of the vampires working under him, he usually picked one in the town he was in, compelled them to do his bidding, and forgot about them. It wasn't as if he had friends, after all. Not anymore.

"Where did you leave the body?"

"Actually, it's in the car trunk. I went to you after I killed him, but you were... a bit busy."

"Way to say it. I guess you were too busy too after my... accident, and anyway, it isn't as if you knew of a place to get rid of it."

Alaric shared a look with Damon, and finally they proposed to do that themselves, so that the couple could finally go on their trip. They had nothing better to do for now.

Gal and Hans argued a bit, not too willing to burden them with a body, which was understandable, but finally relented. Hans really needed to spend time with his wife, and it was obvious that he had been deeply hurt with the last centuries and his own actions.

The four of them left the motel, discreetly moved the corpse from one trunk to another, the vampire couple cleansed the trunk, and went back to their motel to pack their things before leaving.

Ric and Damon then headed to their favorite burying spot, because really, you need one when you live in Mystic Falls and deal with Original murderous Vampires and others psychos. Damon suspected that Liz had her own spot for the sheriff department, since the authorities in Mystic Falls had this habit to make the more strange deaths just... disappear.

Damon swore loudly when a sheriff deputy stopped them on the side of the road, and Ric had to discreetly poke him in the ribs to make him shut up.

"Papers, please."

Damon complied, wondering what had triggered the inspection. After all, Mystics Falls was a quiet place. At least, it was supposed to be.

The sheriff deputy nodded, and asked them to open the trunk.

Ric and Damon looked at each other, then looked at the man oddly. They had a bit of a problem, and the sheriff deputy was certainly under vervain. Luckily, Damon was known as an anti-vampire activist by the Town Council, as hilarious as it may sound, and if he had a vampire's body staked in the chest in his trunk, it wouldn't be so strange, would it be? But still, only Elizabeth knew that Ric knew too, and they'd have liked it better if things had stayed this way.

"May I ask why?"

The hunter's tone was polite, slightly surprised, all in all, very well toned, but there was something that unnerved the sheriff deputy a lot about it. Like, it was making him shuder, as if he knew this voice from a previous and unpleasant encounter, but he couldn't remember it.

"I'm sorry, it's only that the FBI is in town about a serial killer, and we were asked to perform searches on the locals' cars for some reason, though I have no idea what they are looking for..."

Ric mentally swore that he'd strangle Theodoric next time he saw him, but complied while Damon turned off the ignition.

The sheriff deputy gasped when he saw the body, reached for his gun, realized that the body was all grey and venous and had a stake pushed in its chest, and he relaxed a bit. He glanced at Damon, at Alaric, and decided to talk about it with sheriff Forbes.

"I suppose you won't talk about that to the FBI?"

"Obviously not."


	53. EAM, part 21: Like a crash of thunder in

_Set in 3x04_  
 _Obviously, ignore any scene of the show about the growing relationship between Damon and Elena. I don't even know why I bother writing this, since it's obvious._  
 _They're friends._

 _All in all, the story is the same, but some details aren't the same. Just a reminder, in case you forgot._

* * *

 _You know how you think that holidays are great because you have time, and so you'll be able to work on your fanfic? Those thoughts are lies. During holidays, you won't want to "work". So you won't "work" on your fanfic half as much as you do when you're busy._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 21: Like a crash of thunder in the night**

Alaric closed the door behind him and went to sit on the bed. Damon was searching his clothes for something to wear for the party, and Ric certainly didn't want to interrupt the vampire as he dived into his sea of costly clothes.

Caroline's father was in town, and he was from one of the founding families, and he knew about vampires, and he was able to torture his own daughter thinking it was for her own good, and Damon had had to compel the crackpot. Bill Forbes was proving to be a pain in the ass...

And as always, Damon was being way too thoughtless about that.

The vampire's head appeared out of his closet.

"I hope you won't be going to the party wearing that. I want to show off my sexy boyfriend, you know."

Alaric arched an eyebrow.

"I thought we were being discret about that?"

"You're ashamed of me? I'm hurt, Ric. No, seriously, it's just that your being a proper teacher also means you have too look good at social events, especially when the sheriff department knows you're secretly hunting vampires with the awesome and definitely-not-vampiric me."

The teacher rolled his eyes and left to get himself ready.

When they finally got to the party that was supposed to conceal a Council meeting but was just being fancy in their opinion, Alaric and Damon got a very unpleasant surprise.

Bill Forbes was there, and from what he said, he clearly remembered everything, even what he wasn't supposed to. How he did it, they had no idea, and Damon was clearly upset. Never before a human had resisted his compulsion.

When the man walked away Damon was in a foul mood. Alaric gently put his hand on his boyfriend's arm, intimating him to stay calm and not do anything harsh.

"You're not killing him, Damon."

Ric's tone was cool, and Damon should have known he was being more than serious about it.

But Forbes had been an asshole to his daughter, to him, and worst of all, to Alaric. The man had dared to threaten the two of them, and the vampire wouldn't take it. Who did Forbes think he was? He had no right to question their friendship, or the hunter's acceptance of his boyfriend's nature. It wasn't as if he could help it, that he was a vampire.

"You heard him, Ric. He will tell the Council who I am if I only piss him off a bit. And I always piss people off. I don't even do it on purpose, most of the time."

Seeing that Damon was joking, Alaric thought that maybe, he'd get him to calm down enough and not kill anyone tonight. So he went on joking. Everything for a calm night.

"As if I'd believe that."

"I don't know, Ric. Maybe it's because I'm so handsome. Men fear for their girls, as if I am responsible for them drooling all over me. And the girls who don't fall for my good looks thinks I use women and toss them aside afterwards."

At that point he was almost whining, and Alaric had good hopes.

"That's only because they never saw you and me together. I hope you enjoy our entertainment sessions too much to risk it by playing around. And no, don't answer that, because I know you will only be an ass about it even if you don't think it."

To the teacher's surprise, Damon blushed.

"Don't mention it..."

The vampire's mind was drifting to the most awkward sex moments they had had since they had gotten together. His first not-so-manly orgasm as Ric's length had hit his prostate, the one time he had cried out his boyfriend's name when they usually weren't so vocal, the way he sometimes got so horny waiting for his lover that he just had to take care of it himself and that time Ric had walked on him doing... well. Sure, guys shouldn't be worried about him going after their chicks. He was literally addicted to Ric's cock, it seemed.

But it wasn't the point, not now, not with Forbes out there, threatening him, saying that Ric was even worse than a vampire because he was a human tolerating bloodsuckers as friends. And he had that way of his to ignore compulsion...

Tensing again, the vampire went back to the first topic of the conversation.

Bill Forbes.

"How can he be immune to compulsion?"

Alaric felt that the discussion was drifting back into dangerous waters, but Damon had a point, so he couldn't exactly brush it aside.

"No idea. Apparently Forbes simply has a mind of steel. I guess compulsion is the same as hypnosis, one with enough self-control can ignore it. The only other option would be if he wasn't just a human. Caroline would have been a witch if he was a wizard, he's definitely not a werewolf, and there's just no way he's a vampire."

Or if he was, he was also a bloody hypocrite.

Yeah, no way.

Thinking about it...

Damon eyed his boyfriend suspisciously. A Falkenbach wasn't exactly a regular human being...

"You ignored my compulsion that time during the 50's Decade Dance."

Alaric rolled his eyes at that.

"I was holding on vervain as if on dear life, Damon."

"Oh. But maybe I should give it a try, just for us to know."

The teacher didn't like the turn the conversation was taking, because he knew that if he let the vampire try and actually wasn't immune to compulsion, Damon would come up with ideas, sexual or not, that he was certain he wouldn't enjoy being reminded of. But if it could keep the vampire's mind away from Forbes, he'd gladly sacrifice himself.

"Erm, well, maybe. Another time. And I'll allow you to make me do anything you want."

Damon smirked, arched an eyebrow, and Ric knew he was in future deep shit.

"Even profess your undying love for me in front of the whole school?"

The hunter's face hardened and Damon knew there was no way his boyfriend would not resent him if he made him do that. But that would be so fun too watch... He could dream, couldn't he?

"Do you really want to lose your genitals, Damon?"

Definitely not. It would stay a dream and nothing more. After all, those parts of the vampire's anatomy would grow back, but that didn't mean he was willing to experience the pain and effects of castration, even temporary.

So they went inside, and the party happened. After a while, the council members locked themselves out of sight, and Alaric waited with Elena for Damon to return. They could only hope that both Damon and Bill Forbes would stay civil and that no death threats would be exchanged post-meeting.

A fool's hope, they knew, but they tried to be optimist.

Yet again, they should have known that Mystics Falls never made it easy for its residents.

When Damon joined them, he was fuming with anger.

"That son of a bitch! He knows nothing, and will never know anything since I'm going to kill him now. Right, I don't even know why I came back here, since I've to go and murder the bastard."

And the vampire was already walking away, but Ric got in his way.

"Damon..."

"He threatened you, your job, he insulted your honor as a human being, your intellect, he said that it didn't matter since I didn't care anyway, because vampires don't have feelings, because I'm ready to drop you any time I want!"

That's when Alaric realized it. Damon wasn't listening anymore, and he wouldn't listen again until he got rid of Bill Forbes, the man who had dared to question his humanity, his newly found anchor to sanity. The fact that Caroline's father was exactly that, Caroline's father, didn't matter. The fact that the man didn't know what Damon's feelings for Alaric really were didn't matter.

Bill Forbes would die that night, forget the consequences, forget Alaric's opinion on the matter, even if the teacher may come to hate him because of the vampire's actions, it didn't matter as long as Alaric could be safe.

And there was no way the hunter would let that happen.

"Damon, you won't."

A manic smile spread on the vampire's face.

"Oh yes I will."

One step.

Alaric didn't bulge. He wouldn't. And Damon knew it. He looked at the hunter's hand. It was here.

A tear rolled down his cheek, a drop of salted water broke in his smirk, and in the end his face wasn't so truthful anymore. It was only a mask of self-hatred, ridiculous, farcical mask.

"I'm sorry, Ric."

Alaric and Damon had forgotten Elena, but she hadn't forgotten she was there. She tried, really, she tried, but what could she do if even Alaric couldn't stop Damon? The teacher was the one the vampire loved, he was the one who had influence over Damon. But the hunter couldn't do a thing.

Elena would have liked to be able to do something, but as always, she wasn't able to do anything. She hated herself for that. But it was true nonetheless.

Before she could even move, before she could even talk, Damon had moved.

Alaric was faster than any human. But he wasn't as fast as a vampire.

The sound it made when the teacher's neck broke wasn't loud. But that's all Elena and Damon could hear, like a crash of thunder in the night.

A body fell to the ground. The corpse of a man whose spine had been broken with a single move. A man whose blue eyes, even dead, were tearing into Damon with the coldness of inhumanity. For a second, Damon froze. He knew that look in the eyes of the hunter. And not because he had already seen him dead twice. Both times, he hadn't looked at the man's eyes.

That look of coldness in Ric's eyes, those dead eyes, with no consciousness behind them, those dead eyes, with no humanity behind them, they were the eyes Alaric displayed when his Falkenbach side took over, when his oddness as a human being made itself known, when every feeling he had couldn't matter anymore, when he was able to kill without a second thought.

Sometimes, Alaric had the eyes of a dead man while being alive.

That was why he could be so frightening. And that was why no one could be allowed to come near the hunter with bad intentions. If Forbes had any idea who the vampire-tolerating human really was...

Damon's tears had stopped.

He looked at his boyfriend's still body, his face a mask of steel.

And he walked away, to the Lockwoods' house, to where Bill Forbes was awaiting his demise, even if unknowingly. Now that he had done the irrevocable, he wouldn't stop. If he did, he'd have killed Ric for nothing. He'd have destroyed his relationship for nothing.

Once again, he had lost everything.

And this time, it was because of Bill Forbes, a man who was nothing to him, a man who had no right to meddle in his life. The first time, it had been because of Katherine, whom he had loved, and because of his father, who would never stop, no matter how much he hated him, to be his father. This second time...

It wasn't something that'd be forgiven.

He knew deep down he was to blame too. He knew he had let his tamper get the better of him, he knew his rashness had worsened the situation. But that wasn't something he could change, or at least not so quickly.

Killing Forbes, on the other hand, could be done pretty quickly.

So he would do it.

Because it was easier to act than to think right now. To take his mind off the sound of Alaric's neck cracking under his own hand. To forget that he had killed the man he loved so much he couldn't find another way to protect him, no matter how twisted it really was.

Everything after that happened in a haze.

Damon let his anger control him, and he didn't care at all when he bit into Bill Forbes' neck, he didn't care at all when Caroline got in his way, he didn't care at all when he finally walked away.

Elena saw him come back to them bloody and angry, she saw him pick up delicately his lover's body, and she saw him leave for the boarding house with a dazed look on his face. She said nothing. There was nothing to say.


	54. EAM, part 22: Damned Damon Bloody Salvat

**_Yaye, so, that's it, I've posted all the already written chapters..._**

* * *

 _Chapter 22 is here! Cheers!_  
 _You've got nothing to be proud of! Yes, you wrote another chapter, and so what?! You should have written it one month ago, if you hadn't been post-poning! How many things did you not do this summer that you had to do? What about your neglected blog? All the times you said I'll write a chapter of "Each a monster" tomorrow and you didn't? The sisty or so books you had to read for school, and you read barely more than ten?! Eh, what do you have to... Bluwartghhelpmeeegeeerh!_  
 _Do not worry, it was only me murdering my conscience. Now, you can read._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 22: Damned Damon Bloody Salvatore the Great Bastard**

Alaric gasped for air.

To him, it was strange and unpleasant, waking up without falling asleep beforehand, opening his eyes without closing them to begin with, being suddenly alive again when he hadn't even died.

Sure, he had died.

But it wasn't the point.

Maybe death could be felt. But if that was the case, the hunter forgot everything about it each time he came back to life. To him, there was no death. He was there, dying, and the next second, he was here, gasping for air, eyes wide open, heart in a frenzy. He hadn't died in his mind, only in his body. Time was missing in his head, certainly, but he couldn't help the fact that for him, despite his better judgement, he simply felt that he hadn't died.

So he was here, taking in the place where he was, his brain going half crazy because to him, it was as if he had blinked and the world had changed meanwhile.

Alaric recognized the boarding house. His heart slowed down. He was on the couch, in the library.

And he remembered.

Damon.

Damon bloody Salvatore.

"Took you long enough."

The hunter turned slightly his head and saw the vampire standing behind the couch, two glasses of bourbon in hand, offering him one. Ric really felt like drinking, if only to forget that his freaking lover had killed him only hours before. But he knew that his first action if he took something breakable like a glass would be to break it on the vampire's face. And anyway, he wasn't willing to give his ex-boyfriend false hope. Or any hope at all.

That was it. Ex-lover, ex-boyfriend, ex-friend. He wasn't going to talk to Damon for a very long time. When he'd talk to the vampire again, he'd be old and wrinkled and on his deathbed. Then, maybe, he'd forgive the bastard. Not any time before his deathbed.

Alaric sent a death glare to Damon, and tried to sit up.

A sharp and terrible pain bolted through his left shoulder. Hissing in pain, the hunter fell back on the couch. Last time had been the same, and if he hadn't understood at the time, it was because he didn't know the scar was an actual magic seal that reacted very badly to every kind of magic. Resurrection was certainly magic.

The hunter glanced at Damon, who looked like he wanted to ask but couldn't dare to, because he certainly knew he was guilty as charged and Ric wouldn't take it well if he showed concern. Not after he had killed him.

Instead, the vampire waited, averting his eyes, and talked only when the teacher managed to sit up, even if not without great pain.

"You're taking longer to come back every time."

Alaric spat on the carpet. It wasn't his style, but he was downright furious.

"As interesting as it sounds, it's not something we should have had to find out."

In the corner of his eye, Ric saw Damon wince sightly.

"I'm sorry."

"You can think it as much as you want, it doesn't change the fact that you killed me."

The pain was unbearable, and Alaric was tired. But he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. It ached too much for him to get any sleep anytime soon. It wouldn't have happened, if not for his how so loveable boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend, Damned Damon Bloody Salvatore the Great Bastard.

Freaking vampire psycho. Why had he even hoped the guy could change? Obviously he had been wrong.

The worst being that he was sure Damon really loved him. He had seen it in the vampire's eyes. He had seen it so many times, the hurt in the eyes of his best friend, when he had been oblivious to all that. He hadn't understood back then. But he had seen it.

Damon was in love with him, so much he couldn't even hide it.

But Damon was a lost cause. He was broken, and now the hunter could see it. There was no going back from this kind of breaking. As much as it hurt him too, Alaric couldn't stay near Damon, or he'll end up as broken as the vampire was. A broken vampire was enough trouble, he wouldn't add a broken Saltzman on top of it. Damon was poison, he destroyed everything he touched, he corrupted every happiness he found.

Somehow Ric managed to stand up, and he was making his way out but Damon's voice stopped him. He'd have liked not to stop, to make a point, that he didn't care about the vampire anymore, but it wasn't the truth. Him too, he loved the other one. It hurt as much as it did hurt Damon. But there was no other choice. They were bad for each other, as much as they were good for each other.

Alaric needed someone to love and to be loved by. But he couldn't possibly stay with someone whose morals were so messed up he thought he could kill him and get away with it. Damon needed someone to love him and keep him within bounds. But he couldn't stay with someone he got so comfortable with he ended up killing them and think it was alright only because he knew they'd come back to life after a bunch of hours.

But no, If his mind was telling him it wasn't the clever thing to do, he still stopped, and listened to this voice so loved and so hated at the same time.

"It might be grave, Alaric. I don't want you... I don't want you to die, Ric, even if you'll laugh at my face after what I did. What if you don't wake up next time, what if next time you stay in between, in other words, dead, because the waiting time comes to days, weeks, months, years?!"

The hunter's voice was dry when he looked back at Damon.

"Why, do you plan to kill me again?"

Of course, that wasn't it.

Mystic Falls was the most peaceful place in the world, and Damon's favorite animals were butterflies. There weren't dead and missing people all over the place, and it wasn't a wonder there still were inhabitants in the small city.

But after all that, Alaric only wanted to hurt Damon as much as he had been when the bastard had broken his neck for the sole reason he felt the urge to drain Bill Forbes of his blood.

"You know what, it isn't even worth talking to you about it. You have no right to worry about me now, and I have half a mind to come back with a flamethrower and use it against you. Of course, I won't do it, because even if I wouldn't feel any remorse, I'd still hate myself afterwards since I can't freaking stop to love you, you bastard!"

The hunter took a deep breath, cast a last glance at Damon before moving to leave.

Their eyes met. A common look in the eyes, the feeling they were hooked upon the other's, the tearing sensation when they finally forced their eyes to move past the other's glance.

"You don't come near me, you don't talk to me, you just keep your mouth shut if we ever happen to be in the same room."

And with those words, Alaric left Damon alone in the library.

The hunter went back to the Gilbert home. He didn't want to see anyone but he still had to make sure the kids were alright, after all, he was Jeremy's legal guardian. And he knew, even if he didn't feel like it, that meeting people was way better than going into self-imposed exile in his flat.

The last thing he needed was to dwell on Damon's stupidity.

Elena was there, but she was preparing to leave. When she saw the teacher, she went and patted him on the arm, not daring to hug him, because they weren't close enough in age to do that without it being awkward, not willing to say anything, because there was no need to ask, it was obvious.

"Do you want to be left alone?"

Ric considered the offer of solitude, but didn't respond. Instead, he looked at her and at the bag she was holding.

"It's your house, you know."

The young woman frowned, then her eyes followed his to the bag and she understood.

"Oh. No, no, I wasn't planning to leave, though I can go and sleep at Caroline's or Bonnie's if you think you'd be better off alone..."

"Don't. If anything, it's me who should go back to my apartment. I'm not chasing you out of your house because Damon's is insane and a first class bastard."

"You're staying there unless you don't want to, Ric. Now, about the bag, I'm going to see Bonnie. Did I tell you about what happened yesterday with my pendant? Yes? Well, she's going to look into it; apparently it's a very old magical object, insanely powerful and all, and she needs a lot of candles, more than what she has at home, as well as salt and other things..."

Well, it was one way as good as any other to get his mind off of his new demise.

"Can I tag along?"

Elena shrugged. She knew why he was asking, and if he didn't want to talk about it, then the best next thing was certainly not to think about it.

"Come if you want. But I warn you, Bonnie's going to do witchy things, and you'll see a levitating pendant or something like that, but you won't understand a thing of what she'll be doing. Fascinating at first, but it gets frustrating after a while."

That wasn't a problem. Hell, he certainly could do with a bit of a magic show without explanations. Right now, he didn't want to think at all, because the thoughts could slide back to his least favorite subject of conversation in the twinkling of an eye without his authorization. A subject with raven hair and ice-blue eyes.

"I'm coming. Can you wait, I don't know, ten minutes? I just want to see if everything is back into shape. You never know, with magic, and I'm hurting so much I don't think I'd even notice if I was bleeding my guts out."

The young woman gave the teacher a worried look, but he ignored it. She told him she'd wait by the entrance door, and Alaric went upstairs, to the bathroom.

Making sure he had locked the door, he carefully removed his shirt and turned his back to the mirror, same as back then, after a werewolf had killed him, his second death. This time, though, he had a good enough idea of what he'd see where the pain was so terrible.

Ric somehow managed to look at the back of his left shoulder in the mirror.

As expected.

The skin around his star-shaped scar was red and itching, and the scar itself was turgid on a small zone, on three of the eight points. Swollen, veinous, scarlet skin was bulging around a scar that was letting out small drops of blood, looking ready to burst open anytime, and he didn't like it.

Three points of a eight-pointed star. Three deaths, too.

Wasn't it too much of a coincidence? And if it wasn't, what did it mean exactly? That he had used three deaths out of eight? That once the whole scar would be that way, the seal that was really this scar wouldn't take any more magic playing with his life and deaths?

A light touch of his fingers on the sore scar was enough to make him hiss in pain. So, knowing already he would regret it, but not for long, Alaric bent upon the bathtub and took a deep breath before doing the unthinkable.

Freezing water poured on the swollen skin, drawing tiny blood drops out of an already damaged scar, hammering with coldness a shoulder that felt like it was going to break into pieces. The hunter gnashed his teeth so hard it was painful, and yet he paid it no mind, because what was going on in his mind and his shoulder was painful enough as it was.

He forced himself to stay still half a minute before turning off the water.

Ric carefully dried his wet shoulder, grimacing each time the towel and the sore skin came into contact. He put his shirt back on, buttoned it, hoping no one would notice the redness on his neck.

Finally the teacher looked at his reflection in the mirror, and grunted at the sight.

He looked whiter than Dam... than a vampire he would not name, except for the skin of his nape, horrendously crimson.

When he got back downstair, Elena was eyeing him warily, as if wondering when he'd explode.

The young woman was the one to drive to Bonnie's house. It was late, or maybe early, they weren't sure, but they didn't feel like sleeping, and they knew from experience that when magic was involved, it was best to gather as much information as possible, maybe even act upon it, before it could all blow up to their face.

They knocked on the door, and Caroline was the one to open it, a smile on her lips.

"Come in, but don't try and go in the circles Bonnie drew with chalk."


	55. EAM, part 23: Dreams

_I won't make promises, because I feel I might not keep my word. But I'll try to end this part before the end of the year._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 23: Dreams**

As Alaric walked in the room, he saw that indeed, the young witch was standing in the middle of larges circles drawn with chalk on the floor, the offending pendant in her cupped hands. All furnitures had been either pushed against the walls or even put away. The windows were wide open, but the curtains had been drawn to let in the less light possible.

Three large circles on the floor, three lines of chalk circling the teenager, three white paths drawn on the dark wood. What were they for? He had no idea. But the hunter was used to be in pain because of magical things, so he kept away. He remembered too well the effect a barrier had had on him back then, when Jenna had been taken away for Klaus' ritual and Damon...

Eitherway, he hadn't a good history with magic, it tended to hurt him through the seal, and he wasn't eager to be hurt, even less so shortly after dyi...

No matter. He'd stay clear from the magic circles.

Elena motioned for him to sit next to her and Caroline, on the floor, so he complied.

"What is it about, exactly?"

The young woman looked at Bonnie, letting her answer the question. The witch pinched the pendant between two fingers, holding it for them to see.

"When I tried to find out why the pendant had burnt Elena the other day, I saw some images, amongst which Stefan's face. But, the thing that held my attention was that I saw him twice. Possibly where he was at the time... and another time he held it, since he's the one who gave it to Elena as a present. That was my hint: this is not just any pendant, it had some magical properties, or maybe it was once worn by a powerful witch or wizard, I don't know. What is certain is that it has kept parts of its past in itself... And I intend to discover as much as I can about it. We had enough surprises with bewitched jewelry."

And with that, the teenager gave a pointed look to Alaric, who moved his hand to cover the ring that had already saved his life thrice. He wouldn't say it had been a pleasant surprise to find out about the ring, but it had more to do with the fact he had had to be brought back to life, hence he had been dead, killed by a supernatural creature. All in all, he was rather thankful for the "bewitched jewelry", since it was the reason he was still alive.

But he could see the girl's point.

If rings that can bring back the victims of supernatural attacks, if rings that allows vampires to walk under the sun, if rings that caused anyone with the Falkenbach seal to hurl away in pain existed, there surely were, out there, magical pendants that could do harm to a young and defenceless girl such as Elena. It was best to know than to guess, that maybe, they wouldn't all die in terrible suffering because of the pendant.

One was never too cautious.

Caroline's eyes, dead set on the pendant, squinted a bit as she cocked her head to the left.

"You'll do a hocus-pocus thing and it will show you its past?"

Ric saw Elena contain a chuckle as Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"Hocus-pocus it won't be, Caroline. I don't do hocus-pocus, my grandmother didn't do hocus-pocus, and I don't think any self-respecting witch or wizard would do hocus-pocus even with their lives on the line. What I'm going to do is calling to the forces of nature and using them to approach the pendant's own magic, hoping it will resonate and give me other images, maybe sounds too, and, if I'm really lucky, fragments of the past."

Caroline huffed at the response to her question, but said nothing.

Bonnie, gesturing to the lines on the floor, explained these were wards, as Alaric had expected, but specific ones. The first circle on the outside was keeping vampires and other undead things from getting to her while she was in it. The second one was for inhuman-but-living-supernatural beings, like a werewolf. The last ward kept human-but-supernatural beings out, including doppelgangers, witches and cursed men. The barriers would stop anything coming from one of those beings. Bonnie, standing in there, was completely shut out of the supernatural world herself excepted.

It wasn't that the young woman feared an attack while she'd do her thing with the pendant. More like, she knew there would be a huge amount of magic released if she manaded to go into resonance with the piece of jewelry, and the wards would keep the magic in as it'd keep it out. She certainly didn't want an enormous wave of unknown magic left to hit Mystic Falls because of her actions.

In other words, Caroline was not to cross the first line under any circumstance, and Elena wasn't to go further than the second one even if her friend started to cry in pain or agony, since, anyway, they wouldn't be able to, and, secondly, it might backfire on them.

Bonnie gave a meaningfull glance at the man sitting next to her friends, not having forgotten about last time in the least. She had strong suspicions about Ric, and there was just no way she was wrong, not with how she had reacted to the touch of his skin. Human or not, she couldn't honestly say, but the teacher certainly wouldn't be able to go through the third layer of wards.

As she looked at him, wondering quietly how he was coping with his last temporary death, she noticed he was listening her explanations a bit to intently to be honest, as if he was trying not to think about something. Not surprising, considering how he had died.

There really was no hope for the bloody vampire...

It reminded her of the feeling she had had when she had tended to the man's wounds, not long before, the feeling that had given it all away. Bonnie still had no idea what the teacher was, but she knew it wasn't something pretty.

When in contact with a witch, she could feel a sort of connection, something from nature itself, but also something benevolent. With Elena, it was just a strange feeling, as if she was an oddity of nature, but not something utterly wrong or evil. Simply odd, unexplained, but approved by nature. A doppelganger, so to say. Things became unpleasant with werewolves, for they gave off that wild feeling, natural, sure, but dangerous too. And of course, the vampires. With those ones, things were just ugly. Dead. Yes, that was it, they gave off death.

But Alaric Saltzman, it had been completely unexpected.

The man was her history teacher, for God's sake! A kind and compassionate man, unless he was out hunting bastard vampires / werewolves / hybrids / every-freaking-monster-too-happy-to-oblige-and-murder-innocent-people-existing. She knew he could be lethal, if it came to it.

But still.

There was something off about the feeling she had had.

Something that tasted a bit like death, but not the same as vampires' death. Something more frightening. Something terrible, under the guise of respectabily.

A monster in a human skin, ready to rise if ordered to, but a tamed monster, obeying every single move of its master, the man itself, the human skin, in a way.

Something like fright. Or dread.

Bonnie sighed, and went back to her preparations.

She'd find out what Alaric was hiding sooner or later.

Said teacher was now ignoring Caroline's attemps at comfort with all his might. The vampire teenager was insistent, though, and an annoying voice in the back of his mind had started nagging at him, whispering intently he'd better listen, for if the girl wasn't good at listening to people, her advices on the other hand were quite often accurately given. But for now, he'd rather wallow in self-pity, since you know, it's the best way to deal with your lover killing you. Twice.

"Come one, you have to talk about it."

No he didn't.

"Professoooor..."

Now that wasn't going to earn her any favor.

"Mr Saltzman, talk to me..."

No.

"Alaric..."

Insidious girl, she was going to get him to talk, if only so that she'd stop that unbearable prattle.

"Ric... You will talk to me..."

Never.

"Trust in me... Just in me... Shut your eyes and trust in me..."

The teacher would have spun on his heels if he had been standing, but as he was sitting, he simply turned his head quick enough for the blond girl to hear a sickening crackle of his neck. But frankly, right then, Ric didn't care about creaking and damaged joints. He watched out for any form of compulsion, after all, one was never too cautious, and Caroline had just quoted Kaa, so he didn't feel safe at all and was totally right to be paranoid. Wait, no, that one was actually because of the hainous betrayal he had been faced with only hours before...

"What the hell was the _Jungle Book_ quote for?!"

"Ah! I got you to answer, finally. See, I told you I would. So, now, let's talk about your murderous boyfriend who tried to kill my father and succeeded in killing you."

Alaric had a better idea, though.

"Let's not talk about the bloody bastard."

Caroline only arched an eyebrow and looked back at Bonnie and Elena, who were putting salt and candles here and there in the room while she was torturing the history teacher. Why the long faces? Someone had to do it, and she was the best for that. No other reason, she swore.

Seeing that her two friends were well on their way to de done and go on with the witchy things, Caroline realized she had to hurry up or the teacher's attention would escape her grasp. She wasn't going to let that happen, not after all the work she had done to get it.

"The bloody bastard must be sulking at the boarding house, right?"

"Maybe. Don't know, don't care."

"Liar. You wouldn't be sulking too if you didn't care."

Ric rolled his eyes, knowing she was right and still unwilling to admit it.

"So you consider that my lack of caring is a proof of my sulking that in itself is a proof of my caring?"

Caroline nodded, looking more serious and smug than disturbed by the strange way this discussion was going. If the teacher wanted to deny it, it was his choice only. Not hers.

"Now, listen, either you can go on hating Damon, or you can go to him, hand him his sorry ass on a silver platter and spat on him, and then try to beat into his poor excuse of a brain that. One. Does. Not. Kill. On. A. Whim."

Alaric smiled a weak smile, knowing full well such a beating would have results only for a few weeks at best. Damon had lived too long doing whatever he wanted, killing whoever he wanted, for the habit to be broken so easily. Yet, for a short moment, he allowed himself to dream he could change the vampire.

The weak smile turned into one of sarcasm.

He had allowed himself to dream, once. Dreams of a family, despite his cursed bloodline. Dreams of love, despite his utter lack of luck in life. Dreams of peace, despite his name and his past.

Dreams.

Only dreams.

Nothing more than dreams.

The teacher turned to his student, and his smile changed once more.

A smile of surrender.

"There's no need to try and fetch me a happy ending, Caroline. My life has been dictated by my blood and name, and never have I been able to escape those. It won't change with hope. I know. I tried it before. And still here I am, surrounded by darkness and misfortune yet again. There's no need to fight against it. My fate had been sealed the day I was born as a Saltzman."

Caroline was about to protest, thinking he was dramatizing a bit.

But she didn't.

A loud, hurt, frightened scream came from the middle of the room, from the middle of the circles, and the hunter and the vampire turned to the screaming witch in the circles.

Bonnie had fallen on her knees, blood running on her face from her nostrils and eyes, but she wasn't moving. The pendant in her hands was levitating in a sickly white light.

Elena tried to push her way into the wards of the third circles, but every time she only ended up cast aside. Caroline tried too, but the first barrier thrown her away too.

Alaric was watching the third ward silently.

He put forth his left hand.


	56. EAM, part 24: The only one bloody enough

_Would you believe me if I said I hand't even planned to get Ric in such a state? The story just got a mind of its own, I tell you! The idea popped into my mind, and then I was like, Oh great, I can make him suffer even more!, So I did it._

 _Anyway, the cat was let out of the bag._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 24: The only one bloody enough**

Why his left hand, one might wonder.

Well, it was simple, really.

His left hand, because he was right-handed, and if by some odd twist of bad luck his coming into contact with Bonnie's barrier ended up with a lot of blood and pain and mistreatment, he'd rather lose his left hand than his right one. See, very pragmatic. And yes, there's no need to feign ignorance, it was completely possible that he'd suffer for this attempt at rescuing the young witch.

So Alaric's fingers came into contact with the third ward.

He'd have screamed, if that would have helped.

He reached out for the now inconscious girl slowly, fearing any kind of haste would see him cast away as Elena and Caroline had been.

The scar on his left shoulder was aflame with pain, and the hunter was pretty certain the redness of his skin wasn't the only redness around it anymore. It felt like the cicatricial tissue was bursting open everywhere on the scar. He wasn't exactly sure he was bleeding again, but he didn't doubt much either. Sure, the blood gurgling out of it was hot, but he couldn't feel it, and that for two reasons.

The first one was, Alaric felt completely numb everywhere else on his back, saturated with the pain from the scar itself, the burning flesh, the itching edges of the wound, the throbbing in his skin... So he certainly wasn't going to feel even a flow of blood dyeing his shirt crimson.

The other reason was that even the pain from the reopened scar seemed dull compared to what his fingers were experiencing.

The first centimeters had been relatively easy, with only minor cuts apparing at the tips as he forced his way inside the wards. He suspected his ability to walk in despite his nature, that the barrier was definitely aware of, given its reaction to his intrusion, had much to do with the negating effect the seal carved in his flesh years ago had on magic of all kind.

It didn't make it easy for all that.

It hadn't taken long. Just a few centimeters, until his hand was completely in.

And then, outbursts.

The minor cuts on his fingers weren't so minor anymore. Ric had now several large and bleeding gashes running up to his wrist, and the pressure on his bones was so high he wondered if it was enough to break them.

Still, in the end, Ric let out a scream when his nails were torn apart and ripped from his fingers.

He stopped breathing for a second, but finally grabbed, not the witch laying on the bloodied floor, but the pendant, still hovering above her motionless form. The ominous jewelry stopped glowing altogether, and Bonnie stopped bleeding so much at the same time.

Yet, his hand was still being torn into shreds, since the wards had nothing to do with the pendant, and if he didn't do anything right now right here, he'd have no hand left within a short time.

So, still holding onto the thrice damned jewelry, Ric grabbed the unconscious witch and dragged her out of her wards. She looked bad, but not threatingly bad, and when one lived the life he or Elena for example lived, it meant the world.

Letting himself fall onto the floor, the hunter watched as Caroline runned to her friend and forced her to drink a bit of her blood, so that she'd heal whatever the pendant had done to her exactly.

After a short while, Elena looked at Alaric, meaning to thank him thoroughly for rescuing Bonnie when she and Caroline hadn't been able to, but then she spotted a glint of red on the floor. The young woman blinked, suddenly worried, and she remembered how hard going through the barrier had been to her somewhat-illegitimate-stepfather. But he was human, so surely...

She'd think about that particular aspect of the day's mystery once she'd be sure Alaric was alright.

Making her way away from the not-so-talkative-and-very-unconscious-witch, Elena joined the hunter to check on him.

That's when the doppelganger saw it.

The pool of blood, and the bloody forearm. The lack of nails, that usually talked of chinese torture. The white of his face, as if he had been drained of all his blood...

"Caroline, come here and fix him! Quick!"

The vampire glanced at her unexpectedly agitated friend and at the hunter sitting on the floor next to her, holding his left arm with his right one, and wincing slightly. With how Bonnie had bled only minutes before, she couldn't tell if he was bleeding to with only the scent, but the man was downright white as chalk.

Caroline checked Bonnie was still alive, and joined the two others.

"What's the mat... What the hell happened?!"

She was eyeing the bloodied limb with a bewildered look on her face, still unclear about how they had gone from _The Jungle Book_ to Bonnie unconscious and hurt and Alaric even more wounded.

The young vampire didn't wait for the answer to her question, though, and just bit her wrist, before forcing it against Ric's mouth, who only complied, not even backing away from the disgusting taste of blood. Erm, disgusting for a human, of course.

She found it odd how the man was simply accepting it, without any reaction, as if it had no taste at all. She found it odd he wasn't complaining much, despite the blood loss, despite the wounds that one minute before were eagerly pouring blood on the floor. She found it odd he had been injured in the first place.

Alaric held his breath as he watched the wounds disappear, but not the blood he had lost, making him look like a mad killer from a horror movie or something, covered in blood from head to toes. Not that it was the first time.

Of course, a mouthful of vampire blood could only heal so much, and his nails were still missing, but well, who was he to complain? The torn skin where the said nails should have been had healed, and that was better than nothing. Now, his hand just looked really weird, with no nail and all, but he'd put on some band-aids and no one would notice a thing.

Elena and Caroline waited a bit for him to get better, and then started assaulting him with questions.

Questions he'd rather not answer, but this time, he couldn't see an escape route. So he stayed silent, thinking of what to say, a thoughtful look on his face.

Someone coughed not far away, and they all turned to see Bonnie spitting a bit of blood.

"You're alright?!"

In a flash, a frantic vampire was next to her friend, and the witch tried a poor smile.

"I'll live."

Caroline gave her an tissue to wipe away the blood she had on her face, and Bonnie took it gratefully. The teenage vampire helped her to the sink, where they made numerous failed attempts to get the witch clean of every red stain possible. It took a while, Bonnie's coordination being a bit shaken for now, but in the end they managed.

When the two went back to Elena and Alaric, still sitting on the floor, the witch looked really soaked, but not bloody in the least, and that counted as an improvement.

As she sat down too, Bonnie's gaze fell on her doppelganger friend, still holding onto the hunter's arm as if her life, or, more likely, his, was on the line, and as a consequence, she ended up staring at the blood-soaked history teacher sitting in her living room.

"I guess I owe you a thanks."

It was clear he had been the one to pull her out, because he was the only one bloody enough to have done that. And the young witch was pretty sure most of the blood was not hers.

How he had passed her wards, she wasn't sure. But it confirmed her doubts. He wasn't human, or, at least, not only human, or he wouldn't have been in this state. Alaric Saltzman had overcome her barrier, and the price to his action had come at a high price. How lucky they had had a vampire ready to play blood bank... which, in itself, was a pretty ironic sentence, by the way.

The hunter waved a "It's nothing" at the witch, and everyone got to admire left hand with no nail. For a moment, Bonnie thought she was going to puke.

Elena stared at her friend for a long time, trying to gauge if she was really okay, and apparently she came to a divided conclusion.

"Did you see anything?"

Bonnie nodded, thankful for the change of conversation.

"The pendant has kept in its magic every supernatural being that ever touched it. I had seen many already, when a woman touched it, early fifteenth century according to her clothes, give or take, and it just blew up in my mind, kind of..."

The witch gazed into nothingness for a second, then shrugged and continued talking.

"The first possessor was a witch, she's the one who made it. A blond woman, powerful enough, I believe... Then I saw several children, and I'm not sure, but I think we know two of them. Klaus and Elijah. Maybe she was from their village, I don't know. One of the children took the pendant at the woman's death, and at that time she had become an adult woman. She kept it for centuries, but sometimes she let someone else take it, maybe only to get a look, or because they needed it for some spell. The others... I've seen you, Elena, but also Katherine, and at least three other women with your face. I guess Katherine wasn't the first doppelganger... I've seen Elijah and Klaus adult, I've seen Stefan, several times, and, if I didn't know any better, through the whole millenium. And then I saw this woman..."

Bonnie was now staring intently at Alaric.

The hunter didn't like that at all.

"I don't know why, but when this woman took it, the pendant... it sort of died. As if the magic had disappeared, just while she held it. And it didn't like that I got to see that. Maybe it has to do with a weakness, after all, the blasted thing almost has a consciousness of its own."

Ricrefrained from shifting under the witch's suspiscious-though-not-aggressive glance. Why was she looking at him like that already?

The teacher was sure he was going to regret it sooner or later, but he asked.

"Was there anything else you can say about that woman who caused the pendant to black out?"

"Actually, there is."

Bonnie pointed at him.

"When you grabed it, it blacked out too. Then it stopped its fighting with my mind and magic."

Great, Ric thought. Now, he had the intrigued looks of Caroline and Elena to add to Bonnie's suspicious one.

"This woman, she was one of your kind, wasn't she?"

A puzzled doppelganger and a wondering vampire exchanged a look, turned a bit to look at their witch friend, and went back to staring at Alaric. Elena was the first to ask, half-believing her friend couldn't be wrong, almost waiting for the moment the history teacher would admit to being an alien. After all, they already had vampires, witches and wizards, werewolfes and doppelgangers, they surely could afford an alien. Even if it sounded ridiculous.

"'One of your kind?'"

Plutonian, certainly. Or maybe he was from outside their stellar system. Would they have been able to have a baby, Jenna and him, if he was an alien, and if Jenna hadn't died? Interesting question. Now, what kind of being would the baby have been born as?

Noticing her thoughts were going astray, Elena brushed them aside, but didn't stop arching an eyebrow at Alaric for all that.

The teacher looked unwilling to answer at first, but he finally decided he had nothing better to do than to speak the truth about the Saltzmans, the Falkenbachs, and a lot of other things.

"I'm a cursed man."

The three teenage girls / vampire / doppelganger / witch / utimate-supernatural-feminin-team-with-a-knack-to-guilt-trip-you-into-doing-anything-they-wanted didn't say a word but went on staring at him expectantly.

So he told them everything about the Falkenbachs, he told them about the bank, and in the end, they only told him it wasn't his fault if his family was one hell of a cursed one.

"Well, I know, but that wasn't what they had been thinking when I went back to high school..."

"They knew?"

"My face, though hidden and bloodied, had been in seven newspapers or so. Those who knew me well enough recognized me. Everyboby knew, but no one would say anything. Ever. Not with my family being who they were."

And so, the secret wasn't one anymore. Oh such a bitter thought...


	57. EAM, part 25: Something amiss

_After 3x09_

* * *

 _Be happy, I hadn't intended to finish this today!_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 25: Something amiss**

Alaric closed the door behind him, and went to sit on the nearest chair.

Silence.

He looked around. Nothing unexpected. Not a surprise. After all, why should there be something unexpected in his own flat? Well, besides the fact that Klaus still had access to it, must have invited his real body in while he was playing the body scrounger with the hunter's. Really, the only thing good with vampires was that they couldn't block the door with their foot when you didn't want to let them in. But no, why would the Great Niklaus the Maniac play by the rules? Uh? He wouldn't.

And he hadn't.

So, if the Original Hybrid had the mind to come and visit, he could very well come in, and, try as he might, Alaric was nowhere near able to deal with the unsufferable but hellishly strong monster. Not strong enough, and not in the mood, too.

Ric scowled at no one in particular, since, you know, he was all alone and miserable, and grabbed the bottle of bourbon and the glass that had taken permanent residency on his dining table.

Klaus was back in town.

Admitedly, the bastard had nothing to do with Alaric, so it was unlikely he'd come to see him, kill him, have a chat, whatever the freak might do. But it wasn't about himself that the hunter was worried.

Klaus was back, Stefan was completely brainwashed by anger, blood, and compulsion, the number of supernatural deaths had again gone up, Elena had almost burned alive in an unexplained event, and the girl was considered an "asset" by an unkillable psychopathic hybrid, another Original Vampire was walking free under the sun, one of his student had been turned into an hybrid, and he had had to deal with a ghost invasion of some kind, as well as viking paintings in a cave to translate. There certainly was more, but right now, right here, Alaric didn't want to think about it.

It was only truer when "more" had raven hair and blue eyes.

Sure, he and Damon were on speaking terms once again, but not like before. It wasn't the same as during the past months, it wasn't even the same as when they were only friends. They couldn't go back to being friends, not after they had shared so much more, not when they still both loved each others. They couldn't go back to being lovers, not even when Damon had apologized. Not for now, at least.

So both were something again, but what exactly, Ric didn't know.

Bloody supernatural! If not for it, in a world where there wasn't anything that couldn't be explained by science, in a world where Damon was human, where he wasn't cursed, where Elena wasn't constantly in danger because of what she was born as, where people simply didn't die with no blood in their body...

The hunter's facial expression froze, and suddenly, he felt...

Relieved? Or angry? He wasn't sure.

The man looked at his left hand while he used the right one to take a sip of alcohol.

There was no reminder of what had happened, not so long ago, days only, at Bonnie Bennett's. His skin was perfectly normal, he hadn't a scratch left from the wounds he had gained while saving the girl. No reminder, except that he had band-aids all around the tips of his fingers. Under the band-aids, no nails.

Yet another wound to thanks the supernatural for.

The scar on his left shoulder had been throbbing for days, after his last death. He had not slept more than two hours a night since then.

Damon could apologize, it wasn't a difficult thing to do, the only thing needed was for him to act like a decent person once in a while, and not like I'm-a-bloody-Salvatore-why-should-I-apologize-?. There was no pain, no bounds preventing him from opening his mouth, and simply, oh so easily, say the words.

But no.

It hadn't even been a "I'm sorry".

Why had he accepted, or even acknowledged, such piss poor apologies?

Love. What a joke. Love, from and for a vampire? Ridiculous.

Beasts. All of them.

The hunter threw his empty glass away in an angry motion.

There was no sound of breaking.

"Someone is in a bad mood."

The hunter felt there was something wrong with him, because he didn't even tense when he heard the voice. The bloody voice of Klaus. The Hybrid had come to him, for whatever reason he might have, and was now standing in his flat, and the hunter wasn't even apprehensive. Disgruntled, at most. Or maybe uncaring would be the better word to describe how he felt.

How strange. He wasn't even slightly drunk, he had only had one glass of bourbon, and yet there he was, as if in a drunken stupor, that is, a Falkenbach drunken stupor, which was infinitely more dangerous than a normal drunken stupor, for it tended to leave the common sense he had in place of human feelings at the door. Dangerous for who, was open to discussion.

The oddity struck him as he stood up and turned to face his unwanted visitor, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I was killed by my best friend not long ago, I'm entitled to be angry."

Best to keep this about friendship, and nothing else. It wasn't Klaus business, after all.

He had also left out the part about how many worries and problems the hybrid had arisen by coming back to Mystic Falls, feeling it wouldn't be wise to talk about it, and anyway, Klaus was surely aware of it already.

The hybrid took a seat at the other side of the table, and the hunter offered him a drink without thinking much about it, out of habit, and at the same time, wondering what it would be like if the bourbon had been poisoned with wolfsbane or vervein. A shame it may have altered the taste.

Klaus looked at the man sitting in front of him with mild interest.

"I was killed by my own father when I turned, and after that I've been stabbed with a white oak ash dagger trice by one of my brothers or by my sister. I can't see what you're complaining about."

The hunter didn't react in anyway, and Klaus found that strange. The man was sitting there, waiting, watching him, watching out even for the tiniest move, but he wasn't reacting.

"What have you come here for?"

"I like your kind. They're interesting. Ever met Hans?"

The hunter snorted at that.

"He came not long ago. Nearly killed me. Then he was reunited with Gal, and they're gone on a second honeymoon or something like that. I have their phone number, if you want. But if he doesn't hate you anymore, I wouldn't let him anywhere near this brother of yours that played him anytime soon."

Klaus winced at the mention of Kol's stupidity.

"Right. He got Galswinthe back, that's better than nothing."

The hunter only shrugged, and Klaus could tell he didn't care, or at least, he didn't at the moment. It was so unlike the man he had learned the Falkenbach to be, that the hybrid couldn't help but grow suspicious. Not of the man's behavior, because he somehow trusted it to be honest, but of the man's state of mind. It was like there was something amiss, and he didn't know what, because he didn't know the hunter so well. And Klaus didn't like being left in the shadows.

The man looked up at him once again, and the Original found himself staring at those eyes once again. Falkenbach eyes. Cold, uncaring, inhumane.

"What have you come here for?"

Same question, again.

"Nothing important. A fair warning, maybe."

"I doubt anything is fair with you, your highness."

There was sarcasm in the hunter's voice, but Klaus didn't mind. After all, it was the truth, most of the time. He did what was best for him, no matter what the consequences for the others were.

The hybrid spared a look at the bottle on the table. It was nearly empty, so maybe the man was drunk, you could never really tell with those Falkenbachs. Then again, he could see the dust-free circles in the area of the table where the bottle had been left, apparently for days. No wonder there was almost no alcohol left.

"You should clean your place more often. There's dust on your table."

"I haven't eaten here since the last time I died. The noise at the Grill make it easier not to think."

The noise. Not the drink. Interesting. But not what he had come for.

"Anyway, as I was saying... I've come here to warn you, and, by association, your friends. Don't try anything to oppose me, and you shall live. No matter who I kill, no matter how much your friends are suffering, if one of you tries to stop me, the deaths will be more numerous, and the suffering will be worse."

The hunter's only answer was to stand up and take another glass to pour himself a drink.

"In short, not to expect any pity from you. Understood. Actually, it's like you came to say something we all knew already. So, why bother?"

"Because I know the like of you. You hope, and when hope is gone, you don't know it until you die. I'd like to keep my Petrova doppelganger alive, so that I can create hybrids, and for that, it's easier if I don't have to worry about you getting her killed while trying to save her. If you obey, there will be casualties, I don't deny it. But you don't, and you won't be there to see how much more despair will be caused."

And Klaus, saying that, had his most chearful tone, the one he habitually used to make death threats. When he wasn't too angry, of course. Though, he rarely had to make death threats while angry, because the ones he could have threatened were usually already dead.

The hybrid was about to leave, ignoring the hunter's reactions, be it protest or begging, as he liked to do to mark his word, meaning there was no open door for negociation.

But he didn't pass the treshold.

The man behind him, the man whose reaction he had intended to ignore, at least in appearances, the man hadn't said anything. He hadn't moved to foolishly try and punch him, or any other kind of stupid behavior.

Not that he had expected something like that from a Falkenbach. Falkenbachs acted only when there was nothing to lose, be it because everything had already been lost, or because they could only succeed in improving the situation, even one bit. Well, sane ones did, at least. Klaus wasn't sure Alaric Saltzman was sane anymore.

The man hadn't frozen in shock either. Those kind of things happened, from time to time. Unlikely, with someone like the hunter, but possible.

The man was laughing.

And it wasn't a nervous laugh, nor a laughter of madness. It was something cold.

Surprised with himself, but more surprised with the situation, Klaus turned back to the man standing in the middle of the appartment, laughing a mirthless laugh.

The hunter had put his glass back on the table, and was looking at him.

"You know the like of us? Interesting. What I wonder about, however, is what you know of the like of me. Last time we... spent time together, I wasn't available, if I remember correctly. Even if I'm as cursed as Hans, we're not the same person, and it can be said of any other member of my family that you might have encountered. So excuse me if when you say 'the like of you', I think mainly of Elena, Damon, and the others. I don't consider you're talking about me at all, you see."

Klaus' eyes squinted as he listened. He was a bit puzzled by the man's attitude. It was so unlike what he had understood of Alaric Saltzman, it was unnerving.

"Then what do you consider your possible course of action confronted to such threats?"

The hunter smiled, but as for his laugh, there was nothing behind his smile.

"Mine? I'd kill whoever dared to utter such threats and destroy all evidences, body included, before they got the time to go back and order someone to avenge them in the worst possible way if needed. But you're no ordinary author threat, and it just so happens I can't kill you. So I won't do that. The question being, what will I do? I don't know yet. You'll have to wait and see."

Klaus, of course, managed to appear as if there was nothing disturbing about the whole visit, and left. He was long gone when the hunter, his scar aching like hell, muttered between his teeth:

"Alaric's course of action, however, you knew it well. Lucky he's not available now either."


	58. EAM, part 26: Quick, harsh, painful

_Set in 3x10_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 26: Quick, harsh, painful**

" _I had warned you not to fight back or there'd be consequences."_

The phone call had been brief, laconic, and utterly unhelpful, since Alaric had no recollections of such a conversation with the Original Hybrid, but at least, it had been enough for the hunter to rush to the entrance door and see Jeremy standing still in the middle of the road, a car coming at him at full speed. It had been enough of a warning for him to realize that said consequences were imminent. It may have been enough to prevent one death, though at the cost of another one.

Problems had arisen long ago, Alaric had to admit, but that he'd have never guessed. Tyler, completely and supernaturaly brainwashed by Klaus, and Jeremy, compulsed to get himself killed.

So Ric had run, and he had seen the car coming closer.

So Alaric had pushed the teenage boy out of the way, and he had seen the car coming closer to him.

So the hunter had stopped, and he had seen the car touch his clothes, only seconds before he had felt it hitting hard against his body.

It had been quick, but the pain had been terrible, and for him at least, it had been too long.

Alaric felt it for too long, and yet, it was only happening, now.

His legs broke. Simple as that, when the car came first into contact with his body, an aggressive, hainous contact. Broken. Quick, harsh, painful.

Three ribs broke. His legs having given away, he had fallen against the front of the car, and the calander had pressed down three of his ribs, and the broken ribs had pierced his guts. Broken. Quick, harsh, painful.

His spine broke. The impact had sent him into the air, and after that he had landed on his back, on one side of the still moving car, and had as soon been thrown on the road as the vehicle went away. Broken. Quick, harsh, painful.

His right arm broke. He had landed on it, once on the hard ground of the road, but really, with everything else, he couldn't care much, even if such considerations wouldn't alter the truth. Broken. Quick, harsh, painful.

His neck broke. After that, he had no idea. He was dead, after all. He was broken, too. But he could say one thing: it had been quick, harsh, and painful.

Dead.

He was dead, once again.

Alaric got up on his feet, and wondered where he was.

He recognized the place in itself, after all, Mystic Falls wasn't large a city enough for him not to know where he was. Actually, he was somewhere East from the Gilbert home, and he could go back there in one hour. He started walking.

Make that two hours. Because he wasn't feeling well, as if his body was a wreck.

The teacher looked down, and he couldn't honestly say he liked what he saw.

Two ribs out of the three broken ones were protruding out of his torso. He was leaving a trail of blood behind him. And his legs were bent in an unnatural angle, as was one of his arms. There was an odd twinge in the small of his back and in his neck, too, as if they weren't in their right position.

And the worst, he wasn't feeling so bad. Bad, sure, but not as bad as he should have. After all, he was currently walking with broken legs, spine and neck, and a mess instead of a chest.

He stopped when he heard a voice, and turned to see a blond woman, sitting on a bench not far from him. He could say she was with him in here, wherever "here" was, unlike the other people he had crossed path with so far, who seemed to be alive, unlike him, and not seeing him, and that at least wasn't surprising. If living beings could see ghosts, situations-with-magic-pendants put aside, Ric was certain he'd have seen one by now.

" _I can help you with that, Alaric."_

The woman's voice, as herself, came from another realm, or that was what he thought at the moment. She was one of the dead of the place, and that was why her voice sounded so strange, near and far away at the same time.

Eitherway, as he was here, amongst the supernatural dead people of Mystic Falls, everything felt strange. Other dead persons were there too, like the woman, but unlike her they didn't seem to distinguish one another. It was as if every single soul jailed in there, the Other Side, as Anna had called it, were in their private prison, and could only perceive shadows of the other prisoners. He was no exception.

Another thing was that he couldn't hear the silence anymore. In this place, there was no silence. Only a strange and undefinable sound echoed forever and ever, because that unnerving sound was silence in this world of shadows.

Ric looked at the woman, still sitting, and he could have sworn he knew her from before. From where and when was another question.

How could she navigate between one's shadows and anothers', how could, while being dead just like himself, how could she even talk to him?

"And what do you propose to do about those?"

The woman smiled genially.

" _Just push your ribs back into place, and it will do wonders."_

The teacher complied, suspicious, but soon noticed the wounds were closing, even though he still felt something was wrong. It wasn't painful, for he'd have been in agony before if he had been able to feel pain in this dead state, but it wasn't right either.

" _Now, get your limbs back into shape too. You look ridiculous."_

Usually, Alaric would have scowled a bit at that, but now wasn't an usual time or situation.

With his most able arm, he bent the other one until he felt the two parts of the broken bone fit. He then found out he could use it normally again, and almost eagerly went to work on his legs, spine and neck. Once finished, he walked straight again, and was certainly pleased he didn't look like a broken living doll anymore.

"It's not healed, is it?"

It didn't feel like it was, at least. Then again, he was dead, and feelings were misgiving.

The blond woman walked to him, frowning a bit.

" _Ah. It isn't, but it should be. I guess that's because you died too many times. When you'll wake up, it will hurt a lot, and you might need to go on a journey to the hospital."_

"You've seen others like me?"

Ric was curious, and reached out to show the ring that would bring him back amongst the living once again. Well, hopefully.

After all, she seemed to know what she was talking about.

" _Why would you think that?"_

"How else would you know about resurrected people and their injuries?"

The woman looked lost in calculative thoughts for a second, but she soon enough got a hold of herself. She took to walk in the street, in the general direction of Elena's and Jeremy's house, her back to him, as if she didn't want him to see her facial expressions.

Alaric followed her, walking easily now, though he felt like his body, was it even a body, in this ghost reality?, was a bit too numb to be honest.

" _What does the Other Side evoke to you, Alaric Saltzman, you cursed and thrice resurrected man?"_

The teacher didn't answer right away, considering. But when his answer came, he saw the woman tense. Perhaps she had never actually met a Falkenbach in here? Could she even speak to the other ghosts, when most of them couldn't do so between themselves?

"Home."

Nothing to be surprised about, really, or even bitter for the matter. Death had always been his home, in some sort of a strange fashion.

Death felt like home, and he didn't care.

" _Home it is, then. But what I meant, Alaric, is that you came here before. Thrice. And each time you died I was there to wait for you and guide you back to your for-now-dead body."_

Thrice. The number of times he had died before this one.

"I don't remember you."

" _You don't, but..."_

That's when she turned around, and faced him, looking him intently in the eyes, as if searching for something, as if searching for someone in his eyes.

" _... still, you do."_

And it happened again.

Everything was of no interest, all of sudden.

Alaric closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he wasn't the same anymore. He was Alaric Saltzman, no mistaking it, but he wasn't "Alaric", or "Ric", or anyone else. He was the hunter.

He looked around, saw the twisted scenery of the Other Side, and so he looked at himself, still unsure of why he had died exactly.

Of course, he remembered what had happened to "Alaric", but he couldn't quite believe his other self, even being much gentler than he himself was, was dumb enough to die for a teenager, even one he considered as family.

Because it was true, the hunter thought of Elena and Jeremy as of family, and he'd have thought of Jenna exactly the same. The others were a shame, monsters, the lot of them, or friends to monsters, for the humans. Shame, as much as "Alaric" was. Far too much of a sentimental, that one.

Damon... Well, the vampire was a sore spot in his reasoning.

The hunter could tell he still loved the man, behind the vampire, the man Damon Salvatore had once been, the man he had never met, to be frank, because he had been alive years before his time, but a man he could still surmise, hidden behind the monster. But if only for that, the hunter knew he couldn't, and wouldn't, bear the sight of a man he so loved being brought down to such a shame. Damon would not remain a soulless blood-sucking monster if he had a say in it.

Still, even if he knew he loved Elena and Jeremy, and Damon if he had been human, the hunter also knew his crusade was too important for him to sacrifice his life in any way. Not even to save theirs.

If he died, it'd be bringing down monsters, such as vampires and werewolves, monsters that feasted on the innocents and thought nothing of it.

"Alaric" had had no idea if the driver was supernatural or not, and though the hunter could tell he was, otherwise he wouldn't be here, but simply dead alongside his other personality, he could also say "Alaric" hadn't thought twice about it. He had been ready to sacrifice himself for the teenager.

He really couldn't fathom how "Alaric"'s mind worked.

The hunter looked back at the dead witch standing not far away from him.

"Esther."

She smiled happily, but there was no warmth in her smile. There had never been, unless she was talking about her children and her husband. Always in the past. Always as they had been before everything happened. Always as they had been when there still was humanity in their heart.

" _So you're back, hunter."_

He didn't flinch at the use of the nickname she had given him the first time he had died. He used to get angry, but speaking of him as "Alaric" didn't seem proper, somehow, so he had just accepted it.

Yet, he yearned for a day when he would call himself with his own name without feeling a sham. He was confident that day would come. But for now, he felt "Alaric" deserved it more than he did.

But soon enough, he'd be the real one, the stronger one, and "Alaric", the one who was always hurt, always used, always tossed aside without even a second thought, would go to rest.

"So it seems."

" _Your body is waiting for you, you know?"_

"I know."

They walked to the Gilbert house, and the hunter felt a bit sad the teenagers living in there weren't able to see how they were compromising themselves with those monsters, because they wanted to believe they were still a bit human.

But he knew the truth, and he'd make them see it, as soon as he'd have become Alaric Saltzman.

While they walked, Esther talked. She talked about how everything that had been stolen from him had been that way because of vampires. How they had to disappear, so that the world would be safer, and happier. How this reality needed men able and willing to fight for all the others.

He knew what she was hinting at, and he mostly agreed. There was only one detail he didn't agree on, and didn't tell her about.

What had robbed him of his life weren't vampires, but magic in all its forms. Curses. And witches.


	59. EAM, part 27: Didn't want, couldn't bear

**Each a monster, part 27: Didn't want, couldn't bear, wouldn't hear**

" _History teacher in need of a hug. Make up so that you can make out."_

The vampire snorted at the text he had just received from Vampire Barbie. She had been harassing him with those for days, now, but each time Damon saw Alaric, he remembered the dead look in the man's eyes, and he chickened out. Not so glorious, coming from Damon Salvatore, you might say. That didn't make it any less true.

Damon rolled on his left side in his bed, and attempted to sleep, once again. Sleep was all that could get his mind off his once-but-not-anymore-because-of-his-own-damn-fault-lover, and he couldn't sleep anymore, but sure as hell he tried.

Well, there was alcohol, too, and blood, that could have helped him. But he didn't trust himself not to react the way he usually did and go on a rampage because he wasn't happy with how the story was turning out. If he did, he'd surely lose the rare friends he had made this time, a luxury he hadn't had for a long time.

The vampire wasn't ready to lose Stefan, Elena, even Caroline, not when he had already lost Alaric.

His cellphone rang once again, and Damon grunted in discontentement as he rolled back on his right side, his hand searching blindly for the damned device of hell.

If it was another text from Caroline, he'd throw it away, hoping it would break.

Opening a reluctant eye, Damon held the phone's screen near his face, and suddenly he was bolting out of bed.

He got clothed in the blink of an eye, typing Elena's number already, calling back in a hurry.

"Elena, what the hell do you mean 'Alaric is going to the hospital'?!"

" _Jeremy was compelled, and... and there was this car... and... and..."_

The girl's voice sounded strangled, a bit distant too, as if there was something making noise behind her, and disrupting the call. It sounded an awful lot like an ambulance siren. Damon guessed she was about to break down, and calmed down a bit.

"I'm sorry, Elena, I shouldn't have screamed. Now, take a deep breath, and tell me what happened. I'm on my way."

The vampire searched frantically for his car's key, and listened as Elena more or less managed to tell him how exactly Ric had gotten himself ran over by a car, killed in the process, resurrected as a result and packed up to the city hospital.

" _And, I don't know, Damon, but it's taking more and more time each time for him to be... to be revived, and this time he was only partially healed. I mean, his limbs were back in place and all, but Ric still had one rib broken and pushing on his stomach, and he was bleeding from there too, and I'm really, really worried about what happens next time he dies! I... I don't want to lose him too, Damon!"_

As her observations matched his owns, the vampire paled, remembering how two of these deaths were actually his fault, and the later had been totally uncalled for. He didn't say anything about her assumption that, one way or another, the teacher would end up dying again, because he knew too well it was more than probable. With the Original Bastard in town, things could only turn out bad, and for Alaric, bad was always synonymous to dead.

The vampire did his best to comfort the young woman over the phone, once again assuring her he was on his way and would soon be there.

When he finally parked next to the hospital, Damon rushed to the reception, rushed to Ric's room, and eventually rushed to the teacher's side.

The man was still unconscious.

"Damon..."

He turned to look at Elena, who looked so distressed he was certain she was his perfect copy at the moment, even if they looked nothing alike.

"What did they say?"

"He's gonna be alright, but I think it'd be best if you handled the sheriff deputy... They know you, and they won't think twice about it if you say the accident had to do with the V word..."

The vampire frowned, and then understood.

"Ah... Yeah, Ric has been ran over by a car, it's only normal the sheriff department wants to catch the culprit... Why don't you just tell them what the car looked like, and be done with it?"

Elena's eyes darted to her silent brother, sitting moodily on a chair in the corridor, and she winced a bit.

"The thing is, they already have the car. The hybrid Klaus had... ordered to kill Jeremy stopped not far away, and waited for Ric to come back to life, and he called off the ambulance with compulsion... He was trying to get us to invite us in, and if we didn't... But in the end, Jer beheaded him. With a butcher knife. We couldn't exactly let the body just outside the door, so we moved it in the cellar before the ambulance came back."

Damon closed his eyes, processing informations with an incredulous look on his face.

Then he turned to look at the brooding teenager outside the room.

Then he turned back to look at Elena.

"Your brother beheaded a hybrid with a butcher knife?"

The young woman nodded gravely and pointed out that the hybrid had been weakened at the time.

"Jer had wounded him with one of Ric's crossbows before that."

"Your brother shot a hybrid with an arrow?"

She nodded again.

Damon pursed his lips, feeling the beginning of a headache.

"I see... I'll take care of your uninvited visitor's body later. Meanwhile, mind your brother. You might want to convince him to move out... To go to a sunnier, funnier place, with less Originals hell bent on killing him to make an example... I'll take care of Alaric."

The girl looked relieved, but before leaving, she shot him a meaningful glance.

"I'll be alright. I don't think his order for me to stay away from him stands in this situation."

But once Elena and Jeremy were gone, and the vampire found himself alone with an unconscious history teacher / all-kinds-of-monsters-hunter-because-"vampire-hunter"-was-becoming-too-specific-an-expression-for-what-he-did / cursed man / former boyfriend, Damn began to feel nervous about what was going to happen.

Ric needed help, that much was certain, but would he be willing to let the vampire help?

So Damon didn't wake the man up just now, and he simply stared at him, hesitant.

Alaric was pale, way too pale, and the vampire didn't like that. For a human, pale could be a sign of death, and for the teacher, that was exactly what it was. He had died, once again.

Once more.

Once too often.

Damon stood there, saying nothing, next to the hospital bed that held Alaric's unconscious form. He watched the man seemingly sleeping, and he wondered if there was even a chance Ric would not die once too often.

One last death.

And then Ric would disappear.

And then Ric would leave him alone.

That's when it hit him, like a slap in the face.

No matter what happened, in the end, Alaric would leave him. He'd grow old, and die, and leave him behind. And Damon had known all along, but somehow, he had forgotten on the way.

Something tumbled down in Damon's heart.

He reached for the teacher's cheeks, trembling a bit, not knowing why, yet knowing why, not so sure of anything, just that he didn't want, couldn't bear, wouldn't hear of it. His fingertips brushed lightly against Ric's face, and he felt in this single touch, all that was between them: something undescriptible, something faint, something marvelous, something incredible, something fragile, something so strong and weak at the same time, it seemed it could explode anytime, just because of this contradiction.

Alaric's skin was hot, as in alive, but cold, as in not as hot as it should have been.

And the vampire wondered if, in a way, he could get the teacher to accept, and to become colder, and completely dead, that's true, but still, more alive than ever, because being alive, wasn't it, in the end, not to be dead and buried?

Damon himself was dead, but he was far from buried, and wasn't it all that mattered?

The vampire bent over the man he loved, and, face to face, he silently asked the hunter if he loved him enough to become a prey for him.

Of course, Alaric didn't answer: he was sleeping, or unconscious, or somewhere in between.

Damon sighed, defeated.

He knew Ric wouldn't agree, or at least, not so easily, not when they were at odds with each other, not when everything was so uncertain about them. But at least, the teacher would never accuse him of asking to put away his humanity. The Falkenbach had been clear about that: he might have been human when Damon wasn't, but he was as much of a monster as the vampire was. Humanity wasn't something he could put away, at least, not the humanity a person lost when they turned. Alaric didn't have any humanity of this kind to put away.

He was a Falkenbach, and a Falkenbach couldn't put their humanity on hold. They hadn't any.

When he breathed on the teacher's face, Damon saw a shiver running down Ric's skin.

A smirk twisted his lips, and he decided to put the indecision away, for some time at least.

The Sleeping Beauty was about to wake up, and Damon, as any respectable Damon Salvatore would do, vamped out and whispered in Alaric's ear.

"This one seems unconscious. He'd certainly wouldn't care if I stole some delicious blood from him, now, would he?"

And with that, he leaned closer to the man's neck.

Suddenly, a hand was gripping his throat in a firm hold. Damon smiled widely and withdrew himself a bit, just enough to see two blue eyes staring at him as if to make a hole in his brain.

"We agreed there would be no biting without consent."

Ah, right, that rule. But it wasn't as if they were sleeping together anymore, so how would such consent come about, now?

Anyway, it wasn't as if Damon had actually intended to take a sip.

"You're creepy. You were sleeping peacefully, and one second later, you're strangling me while watching me with wide-open eyes. I feel like I'm in a horror movie."

"And you're a freak who drinks people's blood, and first thing I hear upon waking up is you joking about my jugular. I'm the one who can believe he's in a horror movie. And now that we stated the obvious, is there anything else you'd want to tell me, Damon?"

The fact the hunter hadn't already tried to kill him and hadn't even reminded him of his stay-away-order gave hope to the vampire, and Damon didn't need much more. He bit his lower lip, and then crushed his mouth against Ric's, forcing his kiss and his blood on the hunter.

Alaric gasped at first, surprised, but eventually relented, and responded pretty well to the kiss.

There definitely was hope for them, the vampire thought with content.

When they broke away, Alaric was once again all bloody around the mouth, and he wondered why exactly he always ended up bloodied in some fashion when he and the vampire shared a moment.

Oh right. Vampire. That explained it all.

"I guess that was my medication for the remaining wounds?"

Damon grinned. He really had a devious smile, and that definitely wasn't good for Ric's heart.

"Your guess is correct. Now, I suggest you clean yourself up, because you're bloody, you mischievous brat, and you go back to sleep for one or two hours, because you need it. I'll compel the doctors and talk to the sheriff department."

Alaric raised an eyebrow at the "mischievous brat" comment, but agreed to Damon's plan, and the vampire watched him fall back into sleep.

But as he hadn't any history teacher left to mess with, the vampire soon went back to thinking about asking Ric to turn, and it wasn't a thought he enjoyed, fearing the outcome of such a suggestion. He left quickly, and on the way back to his car, he saw Theodoric Saltzman watching him.

The young man spoke softly as the vampire passed by, but it was still meant for him to hear, even if Theo didn't know about his enhanced hearing.

"A Satlzman is never accidentally ran over by a car. Our reflexes are too good to allow that to happen. And it can only mean one thing: someone did it intentionally... Landyn won't like that."


	60. EAM, part 28: It was necessary

_And I like it, when a review appears out of nowhere! Thanks, Great First Reviewer, your name ( or username, but who cares? ) shall remain in my memory forever and ever ( what was it again, )! No, jokes aside, it's endearing, you know? So follow the example! Review! Or, let's be generous: Reviews!_

 _Anyway._

 _Better not to let my hopes up._

 _And yes, I see a grand happy end. But far away in time. There shall be much suffering beforehand. Actually, I' like killing Ric. It's fun. It's not every character you can kill again. And again. I don't like killing characters when they actually die. But that..._

* * *

 _Set in 3x13._

 _I changed some things about Evilaric's murders, seeing as the guy is, raving mad, of course, but also a seasoned killer with instincts about those things. Saltzman. Falkenbach. You know._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 28: It was necessary**

A lot of things had happened since the last time he had died, and surprisingly enough, considering the murders and everything, what was really, really unnerving Alaric, was the fact that Theodoric seemed to be trailing him, lately.

Damon had told him, as soon as he had been out of the hospital, that Theo was interested by his "accident". So interested, that he'd have seemed worried, if he hadn't been completely emotionless in all that concerned empathy. Ric knew better, of course. And what he knew told him he'd have to get his cousin out of Mystic Falls before anything too odd happened. Not easy, considering there were witches, werewolves, vampires, hybrids and resurrection involved in the daily town story.

And well, Theo had taken it upon himself to discover who had started killing people. The serial killer / hitman in him didn't like other people to take on his current territory, and he certainly didn't like that the idiot out there who had sliced a guy's throat and left the body with a stake on his chest in the wood behind the major's house had driven the feds back to Mystic Falls. The two FBI agents that had come after the Sobriety Merchant's stop in the city had finally left, empty-handed of course. Theodoric's aliases never left any hint behind.

Alaric turned on his left side, trying to sleep, but no matter what he tried to do, he couldn't seem to find peace. Either he thought about the danger Damon and Stefan were facing, dining with Klaus and Elijah, as he was there, safe and secure at the Gilbert house, or his mind went to the two murders that had happened during the last days.

At first he had suspected Theo. Who wouldn't have?

But the thing was, when Bill Forbes had been attacked at the hospital, Alaric had been intently glaring at a flirty cousin of his misleading his older students at the Grill. So the teacher knew for a fact, that, unusually, Theo wasn't the culprit.

Ric sighed, and turned again, ending with his nose in the pillow, which made breathing quite difficult. He turned one more time, now facing the ceiling, and smiled thinking about how Damon sometimes did sleep with his nose in the pillow. The teacher had observed his boyfriend often enough: the vampire habitually breathed like anyone, out of habit, unlike some vampires who freaked everyone out by forcing themselves not to breath, because. Those were freaky, anyway, and never pretended to be ordinary people. On their summer trip, Damon had explained to him the various kinds of vampires there were, and while the teacher had not been surprised to hear most of them were pretending to be normal people, like Stefan, or partied every night and moved a lot, devil-may-care, like Damon, hearing about those who did everything to be even more bizarre than being a vampire already made them had left him perplexed. Though he had to admit Damon was becoming more and more like his brother as he stayed with people who actually cared about him. Anyway, the point was, his boyfriend usually breathed out of habit, except during the night, when he buried himself in his pillow. Once the fun part of sleeping-in-the-same-bed was done with, of course.

Alaric still wasn't sure where he and Damon stood.

They were making their way back to their previous relationship, he could say that much. But he didn't know how well on the way they were exactly.

Oh well. It's not like they could simply be back to normality so quickly. And Damon was lucky. Most of the time, lovers one killed tended not to be this forgiving. Not that they actually had a choice about that, but still.

Alaric turned again. He really couldn't sleep. In fact, he wasn't even sure why he wanted to go to sleep so soon. It wasn't as if he was tired.

So he got up, and went downstairs with a good book to read about medieval England.

The first hour went smoothly.

But after a while, the teacher remembered why exactly he had thought it better to go to sleep so soon in the evening.

Right, the murders and the dangerous dinner were hovering above his head, mocking him as he tried to push them aside, and worrying him endlessly.

The fact that the stakes next to the two victims came from the Gilbert arsenal didn't make it any better. Alaric was positive Jeremy and Elena had murdered no one lately, well, no one except vampires and hybrids maybe, but those didn't count. Damon was having too much fun breaking people's neck, so it certainly wasn't him, even considering his dark past. Stefan was way too busy hating Klaus, and killing humans could hardly disturb the Original Bastard, so he was unlikely to be the culprit. Caroline wouldn't have killed her own father and a forensic without reason, though the fact that she had a reason to murder her father was debatable; he had tortured her, after all. Tyler wasn't a murder-type, just a sired-type. Bonnie was a witch, she didn't go around murdering people.

And that was about everyone who had knowledge of and access to the Gilbert arsenal.

And, of course, there was Theo, who had almost been stalking his cousin since the "car accident", and had already trespassed in the Gilbert house. Alaric wouldn't have put it past him to do the same with the lake house. But he had no reason to create one more serial killer persona, he already had seven of those in activity, well established and convenient. And he had Ric as an alibi for the second murder. Reinforced concrete alibi, that.

Lastly, there was himself.

But Ric thought he'd ought to know if he spent time murdering people. And as he hadn't noticed anything like that, it surely meant he wasn't the one who had done it. Logic.

It riled him how there was no clues on the crime scenes. He had asked and somehow convinced Liz Forbes to hand him the files as soon as the first murder had happened, because he had a thing with those kind of things. Wonder why. The sheriff hadn't denied it. She had seen him fight, heard him talk during the attack on the Salvatore house. She knew how he was.

He hadn't asked for the pieces of evidence, though. He knew it would have been inappropriate.

But he was worried by the __modus operandi__ , obviously pointing to vampires and vampire hunting. He was worried by the victim's identity, it being that of a Council member and Meredith Fell's ex. Meredith whom he had befriended, and who had proven to be quite an interesting friend by exposing Damon as a vampire, saying she had nothing against it, exposing them as a couple, and making snarky comments about their love life. He didn't want anything to happen to her, if possible.

Even if Damon had deemed her a psycho.

The teacher had told his boyfriend it was the pot calling the kettle black.

Damon had raised an eyebrow and snorted, saying it took one to know one.

Ric hadn't been sure if that had been the vampire admitting he was as much of a psycho as he accused Meredith to be, or if it had been himself being accused to be a psycho since he could tell Damon was one. Eitherway, Ric didn't deny being mentally abnormal, as a Saltzman and all, so he hadn't took offense.

Strangely, Damon seemed to warm up to Meredith quickly enough given that he had suspected her of murder for a time. The teacher had wisely chosen to ignore what it said about his boyfriend, as he often did when the vampire talked of killing or other violent actions.

Anyway, the two murders had been slightly different, and that concerned Alaric.

Sure, both Brian Walters and Bill Forbes had had their throat sliced and a stake had been left nearby both times, but it wasn't the precision of a serial killer. It was significant, and the hunter didn't doubt the culprit to be the same person. But it wasn't a serial killer's work.

Not a traditional serial killer's work, if anything.

Hell if he knew what it meant, though.

Alaric just let himself sink into the sofa, his book closed on the low table. He closed his eyes for a second.

Just a second.

When he opened them again, the hunter had taken a decision.

The man stared at the ceiling above him for some time, wondering how much it would hurt. A lot, surely. But it couldn't be worst than being hurt by a car or having a lung punctured with a stake. And he was skilled at that. A Falkenbach didn't particularly enjoy killing, and they certainly didn't care about suffering. They knew how to make it quick, and as painless as possible.

They could also make it slow, and as painful as possible, if needed.

They didn't care, and so, the hunter didn't care.

But it wasn't the matter here.

Here, it was about slicing his own throat.

He was allowed to wish for it to be quick and painless. Even if it was only a wish.

He went to the front door, and played with a kitchen knife as he waited for one of the kids to come back. If Elena was the first one to arrive, he'd carry on with his plan. If Jeremy was there before her, he'd have to wait for another time.

It wasn't like he wanted the girl to find him dead upstairs, not that ot was the plan, but anyway, close enough. It wasn't like he wanted for her to have to finish him so that he'd come back. It wasn't as if he wanted to frighten her with what could have happened and what could still happen when she was associating with so many dangerous supernatural beings.

But it was necessary.

For her, because despite everything that had already happened to those she cared for, she still wouldn't see they were the responsible ones. Most of the people around her had known suffering and death because of vampires and werewolves and wayward witches, and still, she didn't want to understand how they were wretched lost cases. Monsters.

Alaric was like that, too.

That irked the hunter to no end.

And so, it was necessary for her. And for him, too.

Because Alaric really needed to understand, there was no hope for the monstruous beings he liked, and worst, loved. Because each time the teacher died, the hunter gained more power over their mind. Because Alaric and the hunter really needed to merge, and to finally let go of the pointless feelings he felt for the undead atrocities and other supernatural beings. Because if he let Alaric to his own devices, they'd be dead before long.

It was necessary.

Eventually, the hunter heard Elena's car. He went to the window to check it really was hers, just in case. He made sure he wouldn't be seen from outside, thought. It'd have been difficult to explain afterwards.

His ears had not wronged him. It was time to play.

The hunter slashed his left arm and made sure to leave a bloody handprint on the wall, then he rushed to first floor. There, he let himself fall against the landrail, and took the knife to his own jugular.

He had to be precise, for he didn't want to die too soon, thus dying for real. It'de be a pity if all his work had been for nothing, and even more if he died by his own hand.

The hunter winced as the blade cut open his flesh, as his blood ran down his neck, into his clothes. He didn't like the feeling. Agonizing wasn't his thing. That was one thing he had in common with the normal people, at least. The thought made him smile wistfully.

He'd have loved to be someone ordinary.

He hoped Elena wouldn't take long to come into the house.

It'd be bad if she took her time to play with a lost puppy, for example. Maybe he should have checked there were no lost puppy outside the house before doing this. But no, it was just his thoughts going astray because of the blood loss...

There it was. He heard the door opening, closing, someone's footsteps. There was a silence. Elena had surely seen the blood, by now, and it was still processing to her brain, he guessed. The silence didn't last. Rushed sprinting up the stairs.

The hunter's eyes saw a blurry form bending over him, and he heard Elena's voice.

The girl was terrified, and he couldn't find it in him to blame her for that, even when he knew it hindered her reaction as he talked, as best as he could when one side of his neck had been butchered, no, sliced, mind you, but still, it hurt, even when he knew any lost second could be his last amongst the living. Idly, he wondered one more time if cursed men got to pass on, or if they also went to the Other Side.

He told her.

He told her the obvious, that he would die no matter what, and if she wanted to be sure he'd come back, she'd have to finish him, in case the culprit wasn't supernatural.

The hunter wondered idly. Did he classify as a supernatural being, seeing as he was cursed?


	61. EAM, part 29: Indigestion

_That was one hell of an indigestion..._  
 _anyway, it's been quite a long time since I last made those two really banter, no?_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 29: Indigestion**

Alaric left the hospital soon in the morning, hoping foolishly that his cousin wouldn't have heard of his last injuries.

Foolish hope, indeed, but one must hope if he wishes to escape despair. That was even more true when one's last name was Saltzman, and completely unavoidable when combined with the first name Alaric. He had enough on his plate as it was, and definitely didn't want to deal with Theo. Unfortunately, Theo didn't share this feeling.

The one-eyed Saltzman was waiting for Ric next to his car, that Damon had brought last evening before checking on Elena.

The teacher didn't bother hiding his wince as he came closer to his plague of a cousin.

"Alaric."

"Theodoric."

Neither of them failed to notice their greetings were equally tense. Ric wondered why. Theo wasn't one to be tense about those kind of things. Actually, the man was more prone to delight when he thought he could embarrass Alaric especially, because the latter usually felt it better to try and remind him of all his inhumanity, and Theo didn't like that at all.

"Something you wished to tell me, perhaps?"

Theo eyed him from head to toes, as if searching for something, and it took Ric a while to figure out he was actually searching for wounds. Good luck with that. The worst one was Elena's stabbing, which was hidden beneath his clothes, and the other, the knife wound on his neck, he had dissimulated with his collar. Besides, the wounds had closed upon his death, as always.

Well.

Not exactly as always.

Sure, the wounds had closed, but they hadn't disappeared. It seemed it was getting worse each time he came back to life.

The doctors had been positively astonished when he had been brought in, apparently unscathed though bloody as hell, and they had seen that his organs were a mess even though his skin was okay. Meredith had been of great help with that, taking the lead and dismissing the question, that is, how in all hells had he ended up in this state?

He wasn't going to explain to anyone else that he had been brought back to life by a magical ring. To doctors even less. They'd laugh to his face, even if they'd have no other explanation.

"You look alright..."

Ric snorted, trying to control the discussion.

"If I weren't, they wouldn't have left me out."

"True enough. But when I asked the nurses how was my cousin yesterday night, they looked at me as if I had spoken of the Apocalypse. It seems you were a mess, but only inside. As if someone had butchered your intestines, but without actually breaking the skin. They were all rather puzzled, you know. Any explanation?"

"Indigestion."

Theo grabbed Ric's collar, ready to say something, but stopped before the words left his mouth. Two buttons of the teacher's shirt went undone. He stared at what was before his eyes, trying to give it some sense.

Alaric looked at his exposed skin, and remembered that it had also been a thing the doctors had been shocked to see. Thinking about that, Meredith had asked him to pass by her apartment one of these days, so she could get a better idea of what exactly was happening to his shoulder... He was certain it had to do with a ring, a curse, and a seal, so, in short, with magic, but well, maybe she could get him some pain killers.

"What the hell is that?"

Half of his torso was now red with bulging veins, all of which were coming from his scar. Maybe it was becoming worse because of the number of times he had died, or it could be that the short period of time between his last deaths was worsening it somehow. Eitherway, his neck, torso, shoulder and left arm were now affected, and Alaric was really hoping it wouldn't go further and show on his face. His face, he couldn't hide.

Now, five of the points of the star-shaped seal were constantly swollen.

Three left to go.

Wherever it was leading.

"Not your business, Theo. Now let me go, or do you want us to see if, when my scar is acting strangely, I can be as twisted as you, whose seal is already faulty? No? I guessed as much."

Ric drove right back to the Gilbert house.

Elena had insisted to clean up the house, and he could understand that she didn't want to stay any longer than necessary in a blood-soaked place. But it was his blood, and his mess to deal with. He already had a hard time believing he had asked her to finish him last night. Actually, he didn't remember it, but he guessed he had been in too much of a haze for it to be surprising. Still, he didn't want the girl to live too many traumatic experiences. She had already enough of those as it was.

So the teacher had planned to clean up everything that she might have forgotten the preceding night as soon as he'd get out of the hospital. Damon had told him over the phone he had had to force the young woman to quit it and go to sleep over to Caroline's when he had come to visit. The vampire had supposedly stayed at the Gilberts' all night.

Well, they could share croissants and gossip about their favorite murderers while cleaning the remaining blood stains, it'd be lovely.

As Ric parked near the house, he noticed that Damon was already out and waiting for him.

He got out of the car and walked slowly to the vampire. He had this disturbing feeling that his internal organs were some sort of slop boiling beneath his skin, and the upper left half of his body was itching to the point he had half a mind to rip out his skin with his nails. He wasn't going to do anything quickly today.

"You don't look alright..."

Alaric let out a laugh and decided the hell with proprieties. He hugged his boyfriend, and for a second he felt as if his pain was subduing. For a second.

Damon arched an eyebrow.

"To what do I owe this display of fondness?"

"Theo told me the exact contrary not half an hour ago. But that was before he got to see the state of my shoulder, of course. Then, his face told me he was thinking exactly along your lines."

They went in the house, and as soon as the door was closed, Damon started kissing Ric gently. Between his kisses, he somehow managed to ask:

"You showed your degenerate cousin your shoulder? Should I be worried?"

Ric broke away, a disgusted look on his face.

"What exactly are you implying, you depraved vampire? And don't think I haven't registered where your hands were going. You sending the kids away doesn't mean you can do whatever you want to me as soon as I get out of the hospital."

The vampire gave him his best puppy eyes, but the teacher remained unaffected. Finally, Damon threw his hands up in abnegation, muttering about how, anyway, he would have been the one to have things done to him. Matter of perspective, Alaric would have wanted to argue. The vampire sat on the floor and gestured for his boyfriend to do as much.

The teacher gave the blood-stained floor a critical look, but complied.

"You didn't clean anything after Elena went away, did you?"

Damon grined a damoniac smile and started to undress the teacher eagerly. So much for abnegation.

"I thought it romantic to have our breakfast sitting upon your life force, so to say."

Ric rolled his eyes and surmised it wouldn't stop the vampire even if he were to point out that given Damon's actions, they were not likely to eat breakfast anytime soon.

"Guessed as much. It's frightening how I'm starting to find your creepiness predictable."

"That's love for you. Now, about your cousin..."

"Shut up."

"No, but you have to admit, he's good-looking, and we have the same hair color, and almost the same eye color, and..."

"Damon, do you want me to break your neck right now?"

"I don't."

"Then shut up."

And to give more conviction to his point, Alaric leant over his way-too-chatty-boyfriend and sealed his mouth with his own. He was aching like hell, and really needed something, or, in this case, someone, to get his mind off the pain. Maybe it wasn't the wisest way, for he was certainly going to strain himself to death, but he needed it, and who had ever said him to be reasonable?

Anyway, it did wonder, seeing as Damon finally shut up.

Later, as they were lying on the floor, the vampire traced patterns with his fingers on his boyfriend's back, trying to get him to relax. He was worried about the scar too, but there was nothing they could do for now. Still, he was starting to wonder...

"Does it hurt much?"

"Like hell."

Alaric sat up and looked at the mess they had done. He felt a bit ashamed, and promised himself he'd never lose control like that. Somehow, he had a feeling this particular promise would be forgotten one day or another, and he didn't like that at all.

"I can't believe we did it right in the entrance, and on the floor at that..."

He gave Damon a stern look, fully aware that his vampiric lover and this lazy smile of his were the true culprits behind his momentary lapse in judgement.

Damon, still lying naked and exposing his sculpted body for the sheer sake of arousal, smirked.

"See the good side of the coin: we already had to clean, we just took a little pleasure before that."

"And what if Elena had come back and found us having sex? Or what if she comes home before we get all... this cleaned up?"

Ric didn't like the look the vampire was giving him as he asked these two questions. It usually meant Damon had done something. And half the time, it wasn't something good, even if his boyfriend maintained it was. The teacher couldn't think of anything bad the other could have done about this in particular, but with Damon, he didn't stop to the thinkable.

"I bribed Vampire Barbie to keep Elena out of the house, and, consequently, out of our hair."

Alaric squinted, searching in the vampire's face a hint that he was joking.

He found none.

"You... bribed Caroline with what exactly?"

"You know, this picture of us kissing in bed."

The teacher stood up sharply and went to the kitchen, not without checking that all curtains had been drawn, of course. He didn't exactly want the neighbours to see him strolling around the house naked. And he certainly didn't want them to see him naked and taking the bread knife to stab an equally naked Damon Salvatore in the guts until the unsufferable vampire begged for mercy.

Though, wicked as he was, his lover could very well end up enjoying it.

He had finally found the damned knife when Damon joined him in the kitchen and snatched a wooden tray to use as a shield.

"I knew I shouldn't have left you take that picture. I knew it. I just knew it."

"Erm, Ric, calm down and we'll get this breakfast, okay? Then we'll clean the entrance and the stairs, and after that we'll talk a bit, right? It'd be good if we had an idea of your killer's identity, don't you think?"

The vampire had known it was likely to turn out this way, but still, what was the big deal with the picture? It wasn't as if they had been doing things other than kissing, and they weren't even naked... Though the location of his hand had been easily guessable... And Alaric had had his shirt off... and both of them had had some pretty lascivious faces on at the moment... Oh well, he could see why Ric was angry, he knew the guy after all, and their definitions of proprierty weren't exactly similar.

He had been so right to hide the camera in timer mode... Maybe he could try filming next time.

And all that, not even Ric's sexiness, didn't change the fact that the teacher had been killed the night before, and by someone who had fled without being seen. If there was someone out there able to outdo the Falkenbach and willing to have his hide...

Damon shuddered. Maybe it was time to ask Alaric.


	62. EAM, part 30: It would have been dishone

_Right... I feel I'm going to be have to run away fast, or else I'll be lynched._

 _Bye._

* * *

 _Sorry for the wait, everyone, but I had to attend to my computer's funerals._  
 _No, seriously._  
 _Well, actually, it still works, but the thing is, the screen doesn't. Two third of it are either black, white, full of color lines, or displaying lines of dead pixels. Not sure what happened. I moved the screen to see better, there was creak, and it went crack!_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 30: It would have been dishonest**

"I've been thinking..."

Ric arched an eyebrow as he heard Damon talk.

"Interesting. You don't do that often. What has warranted such an uncharacteristic behavior, if I may ask?"

The serious look the vampire gave him with no trace of mock hurt in it rang a bell, and Alaric thought it might not be the time to joke anymore.

"Damon. I'm listening. Really."

The teacher saw his lover take a deep breath, and then he knew for sure he'd hear either something very grave, or something completely ridiculous coming out of this mouth. A mouth that had a history of riling people up really quickly, and most of the time doing this at the worst moments possible. A mouth that, sometimes, not often, on occasion, a mouth that uttered unsure words and so had made a habit of making the teacher's heart race up.

So impredictable.

"Ric..."

Damon's eyes were wavering, going from Alaric's face and eyes to anywhere else in the room, as if the vampire wasn't certain that he'd have the heart to talk and look him in the eyes, as if, still, he knew he had to do exactly that.

What he wanted to do, and what he wanted to gain, were contradictory. Damon wanted to ask, and he knew that to get the answer he wanted, he couldn't do it any other way than by looking Ric in the eyes. But he was afraid.

Damon was afraid of what would be said.

Damon feared the answer Alaric would give him.

And when Alaric understood that, he got a pretty good idea of what was going on.

He didn't want to disappoint his boyfriend. But Damon was right to fear. Ric simply couldn't say yes. Answering yes was to bet on the future. And people like the hunter didn't bet on the future. They lived, they killed, they died. It was bad enough that they passed their curse on from one generation to another. It was bad enough that, despite knowing they were human monsters, they still couldn't help but wish for a normal life, a family, and children.

The teacher couldn't say yes.

"Ric, you are strong, because of your blood... But you're not strong enough."

Damon finally fixed his gaze on Alaric's.

He had to say it. He had to ask.

Because he didn't want to lose the teacher. Not anymore. Not ever again.

"You have more instinct than any of us, and that's saying a lot, considering the nature of vampires. But we are hunters, when you're a killer. You and your family, you are dangerous, and maybe the most dangerous humans that live. You've got instinct. You've got strenght. You've got speed. You don't have the remorse."

And that, it still meant he wasn't evil. He could be good if he wanted to, and he didn't have to fight against an intrinsic need to murder and destroy. He could fight it. He didn't want to.

If Alaric turned, he'd have to experience the vampiric urges. To fight against a need that would be added to his own lack of hesitation. It'd be dangerous. It'd be terrible.

But Damon could help him. He was a damn good teacher at self-control, when he wanted to. Maybe he didn't know much about what the mix between a Saltzman and a vampire would do. But Alaric wouldn't be the first one. There was Hans. With Hans' and Damon's help, Ric would make it.

And then, the vampire wouldn't have to fear this much for the future.

Alaric would be stronger than before, more dangerous, harder to kill. Damon hadn't seen much of Hans' strenght. But he could say the dread he had felt wasn't only due to the Falkenbach vampire's age.

Alaric would also be there longer. There wouldn't be an expiry date.

"But you're still too weak... Too... easy to break. You're better than any of the vampires and werewolves we've met at fighting, and still, some did kill you, because you're human. Your strength, as great as it is, is not enough to go long against a vampire. A werewolf, maybe, but not a vampire, or worst, a hybrid or an Original. Your speed is better than any human being's, but it is nothing compared to mine, and barely enough to keep up with a werewolf in human form."

As he listened, the teacher kept all emotions at bay. He didn't want to crush Damon's hope, and still, he knew he'd have to. But the least he could do was to let the vampire finish.

"Alaric, please."

But Damon couldn't see anything in Ric's eyes. And that in itself was most likely announcing an answer he wouldn't like. Unless the teacher was a horrible man and toying with him.

"I can't lose you another time. You have the ring, but what if it is stolen, lost, or if it stop working? You know it takes you more and more time to come back every time. I don't want to lose you."

Of course, Damon could just tie Ric up, and go far away from the insane people who wanted all of them dead. But it meant he'd have to leave all the others behind, and that, he didn't want to do. And even if he had wanted to, Alaric would have strangled him over and over as soon as he'd be free. And then, the teacher would go back to Mystic Falls and help the kids.

A lot of troubles, and no result.

So it let only one solution.

The vampire gulped, and tried to talk.

Tried.

It didn't work.

Nothing passed his lips. No words. No sentences. No question.

A knot in his throat, preventing him from asking. Something that told him he'd be heartbroken once he'd have asked. Something that told him there was no way the man next to him would accept to become a vampire. Something that told him he shouldn't even have dreamt of asking.

Alaric saw all that in his lover's eyes.

And because of what he saw, for a second he thought he ought to say yes and accept. He didn't want to hurt Damon more than he had already been. He didn't want this shadow to hang over their love.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't say yes to please Damon, because if he did, in the end, he'd blame the vampire for what he'd become. And their love wouldn't survive long to such a trial.

He would say no.

"Damon."

Alaric had thought about it when he had learned what had really happened to Isobel. He had believed he could have become a vampire out of love. And surely he'd have done it, if she had asked.

And after that, he had considered a positive answer for the time Damon would ask, if Damon ever was to ask. He had certainly been reluctant, but he had considered it, and he had come to the decision that yes, he could accept, if he was certain of their love.

But at the time, Alaric hadn't known.

At the time, Alaric hadn't met Hans. He hadn't seen what would become of him, if Isobel or Damon had disappeared, killed or simply gone. He hadn't witnessed the inhumane state of a vampiric Falkenbach with no anchor to humanity.

"You have to ask if you want an answer."

A pang of guilt.

It was a cruel thing to do.

He shouldn't have said that.

He had had to.

If he hadn't, if he had let Damon go without ever finishing his question, the vampire would have hold on a onto a foolish hope. A desperate and a deceitful hope. A false light blinding him more than any darkness could.

They wouldn't live on a lie.

"Alaric, will you let me turn you into a vampire?"

The question mark was there only for decorum, Damon realized as he asked. He knew the answer already. And he didn't like it.

Ric gave him a small smile, a sad smile, and Damon felt a sour pain in the back of his mind.

He had known all along.

Alaric had known all along what the question would be. The vampire could see it in his eyes. Ric wasn't stupid, and he knew him well. He had known.

And that wasn't all.

Damon had known all along what the answer would be. But he had held on a foolish hope. And that hope had just died.

"I'm sorry Damon, but I can't."

Why was the vampire feeling this numb?

"Why?"

"You know it, Damon. I can't. I'm already a monster. I'm already a killer."

And he didn't want to become worst. He didn't want the urges. He didn't want the needs.

He wanted to stick to the scarce humanity he had.

He didn't want the fear of snapping and giving up what made life worth it.

If he wasn't a monster in body, he was one in mind. Becoming one in body wouldn't make him less a monster in mind.

Damon turned on his heels and started pacing angrily around the room.

"And so what if you're a killer?! I am one too, but I can still be a good person. Hell, if you turn, you might even be better than Barbie at controlling your urges, seeing as you're completely immune to what death and blood arise in the human nature."

"Damon..."

"Let me finish! You can ask Hans for advice! You can turn and choose to stay as you are in your mind! You can decide to stay with me."

"I can't, and you know it."

Damon didn't listen. He didn't want to. Hell, he wanted to forget Ric had answered, to forget he had asked, to forget the feelings he had for the man. But he couldn't, so he kept going on, and accused the teacher of everything. Of not loving him. Of wishing him to suffer. Of not caring enough.

He went on and on.

He ranted, and Alaric listened.

In the end, he stopped talking, and cried silently.

One or two tears, now and then, rolling down his reddened cheeks.

It had been years since Damon had last been so shaken.

Ric sighed, and thought they looked utterly ridiculous, stark naked and still so serious. He was glad the curtains were drawn. But he dismissed it. It wasn't the point. It wasn't the time.

So he went to Damon, and lead him to a chair. He held the vampire in his arms, and said nothing. He couldn't give him what he needed. He couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. He wouldn't offer someone he held so dear an acceptance that wasn't complete and would drive them apart in the end. He wouldn't give Damon something he didn't have to begin with. It would have been dishonest.

After a while, Damon stopped crying. It wasn't his kind of thing. He wasn't a crying-kind-of-guy. He wasn't even sure why he was crying. Was it because he felt this refusal as being turned down? Was it because he feared for Ric's survival in the near future? Was it because Alaric had refused to stay with him for all eternity?

The vampire wasn't sure.

But he felt the sadness and the hurt invade his heart, up into his throat, and directly to his head. He knew it was here, just behind his eyes, it could be seen if someone took the time to look and search. He wondered if Ric could see, behind the glassy windows of his blue eyes, the sorrow he was experiencing.

He looked at the teacher, who was looking at him, eyes half-closed, but still aware of everything, still searching for the reflection of his thoughts in his eyes. It was incredible, how Alaric could read through anyone when he took the time to do so.

"You can go on dying for all I care..."

"I do that already, Damon. I do that already. I die, and still, I'm here. Remember that. I'm here."


	63. EAM, part 31: Flicker

_Not what I intended to write in this chapter, then again, what I had intended to write omehow ended up being more or less included a couple of chapters back, so..._

 _From sexy to creepy._

 _And I've got my new laptop. All hail the return of the computer!_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 31: Flicker**

Alaric could tell there was some tension between him and Damon after his refusal, but all in all, the vampire was taking it well enough. That is, well enough for Damon Salvatore.

Damon had started drinking his mind out, then he had insulted Ric all the way to sunday while being drunk, and finally, half-sobered up, he had decided there was no reason to mourn over a death that had yet to come, and had assaulted the teacher with all his perverted ideas until the man gave up fighting back and just went along with it. Now, they were back on a daily routine, and Ric simply ignored the vampire when he went back to grumpy-mood.

The teacher was already content enough that Damon hadn't opted to do what he usually did when things didn't go his way: sex wit strangers, a killing spree, alcohol, blood, and death. He wasn't going to complain about the mean comments that escaped his boyfriend's mouth from time to time. After all, he had only refused to spend eternity with him, no big deal, and he could totally see Damon's point with being angry at him. The vampire had his reasons.

And Alaric had his own too.

He knew it was for the best that he hadn't turned. There was no questionning it.

But he could understand that Damon was upset. Hell, he himself was upset, so surely Damon could be too.

Damon rolled on the bed to face him, and they both stared at each other.

They had done a quick clean up of the house once Damon had taken out the bourbon, or rather, Ric had cleaned up their mess while the vampire had ranted about how unfair life, death and living death were, and why the hell wasn't he able to find someone who would want him for all eternity? True, he had found ones who were either okay with eternity, or him, but never both. Still, he'd take Ric over Katherine anytime, because Ric wasn't cheating on him with his brother, no, no, take this image out of his mind, and out of the teacher's too by the same token because that was way too disturbing, and because thinking about Katherine always reminded Damon that she had had this creepy idea of putting the brothers with her and in the same bed and make them do things he never wanted to hear about again. Good thing she had never gotten to make it happen.

Anyway, it was now nighttime, a strong smell of bourbon was stenching the bed sheets, and they were both wonderfully naked. The anger the vampire had felt at his refusal had apparently turned him on, and there had been a lot of angry sex, followed with much make-up sex, and ending with a very lewd and laxy sex session. In short, they had made very good use of the day, and had been absolutely unproductive.

Ric was tired, but of course the vampire wasn't.

Stupid vampire stamina. Stupid vampire who looked like he could go another round right now right here. Stupid Damon who looked way too hot for his own sake.

"You look good in this. You should wear it more often."

And stupid male anatomy that all but agreed with Damon's apparent readiness to engage into another battle, and that made him say stupid things.

Damon arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I'm naked, you know that, don't you?"

Somehow, Alaric had the feeling his brain wasn't governing his body anymore, especially not his mouth, because this definitely wasn't something he had intended to say.

"Exactly my point. You should wear that more often. That, that is nothing."

Yeah, his brain's connexion was definitely down. He would never admit he had said such a thing later on. Or he'd blame it on the bourbon. Or even on Damon's absorption of bourbon. It was hard to get a vampire drunk, but it was possible. He'd say Damon was drunk, and had imagined things. The thing being that Damon was actually still drunk, and might forget everything about what he had just said. Let's hope. Hope is what make the world go on. Hope is good.

And, did he say that his mouth wasn't responding to his brain? Yes? No matter, he'd say it again. His mouth wasn't acting according to his thoughts, its latest actions were yet another proof.

Alaric kissed his way back and forth his lover's stomach, and Damon shivered under the soft touch of his lips and tongue. Ric wasn't sure he was in control of his behavior, but soon found out he didn't care much at the moment, though his mind was clearly telling him he'd regret this lack of self-control later on. His mind told him that every single time.

The teacher moved himself over Damon's body, arms almost rooted in the mastress, and he brought his face to the vampire's, who shifted under him, disturbed by the languid glint in his boyfriend's eyes. All of a sudden, Ric seemed hungry, predatory, almost, and he hadn't been that way during the preceding intercourses.

For an unknown reason, it worried Damon.

And wasn't he the one supposed to be a big ball of frustration?

"Didn't you say you were tired?"

The glint became fiercer, and the hunter lowered himself to get closer to the vampire. Damon felt the hot breath of the man on his face, and he couldn't help feeling there was something wrong with the whole situation.

"Why are you asking, Damon? Do you mind another round?"

"Of course not. I simply wondered."

The vampire tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling he had. But no matter what, it lingered. It almost seemed like it wasn't Alaric who was talking to him, but an evil twin brother. Which was an unpleasant feeling, because while Damon wouldn't mind having two Rics in his bed to satisfy some fantasies of his, he right now felt like he had only one, and not the right one at that. Which was disturbing, because the hunter had stopped talking altogether and turned his attention to lower parts of Damon's body, and while the vampire found it extremely pleasuring in itself, and damn, where and when did Alaric learn to do such things with his tongue?, he couldn't shake the feeling this was not Alaric, or at least, not his Alaric. Which made no sense. Unless Ric had an evil twin.

Did he?

Damon groaned as the hunter's fingers traveled to his ass, instantly forgetting his mental struggle to deal with a more physical one.

Yet, in the back of his mind, deafened, muzzled, but still here no matter what, a voice was telling him there was something wrong with Alaric. Far, far away in the darkest part of his mind.

Damon's back arched when a finger entered him. The hunter's mouth was hot on his cock, the hunter's finger was cold in his ass, and Damon couldn't have cared less about the strange feeling. This was definitely Alaric, Alaric who knew him and his body better than anyone else, maybe better than he did himself. The man knew where to touch, when to twist, what to whisper in his hear to get him so hard and red the vampire felt like he would simply burst open to welcome the man he loved and all of his body.

A smug thought crossed his mind, that he was the only one who could do the same to the hunter's countenance, though not with the same actions, of course.

A second finger joined the first one, and together they touched a spot Ric had come to favor over the past weeks, and that always made Damon scream a bit, no matter how prepared he was. The vampire, whose body was so cold usually, melted on the spot, and he let out a strangled cry.

And with that, he came in the hunter's mouth.

Damon flushed, as he always did when it ended like that. The hunter looked up from between the vampire's thighs, with this trademark gaze of his, a sharp, all-knowing look from beneath his lashes, and he moved away from the vampire's dick.

The vampire heard the hunter swallow. It made his heart miss a beat. Why couldn't he have this man forever and ever? What had he done that was so terrible he wasn't allowed to keep what made him a better person? Why wasn't he allowed access to redemption?

"You're really, really intoxicating, Damon."

There was something in this voice, something strange and cold, nearly reproachful, as if the vampire wasn't supposed to be this way, as if the hunter wasn't supposed to feel this way. And maybe that was it, maybe Alaric felt it wasn't right, because he had wanted, he had wished to say yes to his request, but his conscience had forbidden it.

"No regrets that you won't have this sight only to yourself for all times, then?"

Damon immediately felt bad. That was cruel. As cruel as Alaric telling him he wouldn't, because he couldn't, and for no other reason. Who cared about rules anyway?

But try as he might, but justify as he tried, Damon still felt bad, and he realized how difficult it must have been for the teacher to tell him he wouldn't turn. He had seen the hurt, the regrets, the temptation in Ric's eyes back then, but he hadn't realized.

None of them liked the teacher's answer, but liking it or not didn't matter there.

The vampire shut his eyes, unwilling to see the look on his lover's face.

The hunter's fingers moved out of Damon, and the vampire almost whimpered to have them back in, to feel the contact between the both of them. He opened his eyes and looked at the man, ready to give him the best puppy eyes he could do. He'd be sad and upset only once he'd have gotten his treat, and he certainly wasn't going to let the hunter get away after this much teasing.

But the moaning strangled itself in his throat, as he caught sight of the slightly parted lips, of the few drops of white cum, his, trickling down the hunter's chin, of the transfixing blue eyes behind the lashes.

"You know I can't, Damon. But we can either make good use of the time we have left together, or spend it pouting on our own because we didn't get all that we wanted."

And as the hunter said those words, the vampire saw something flicker in the blue eyes, something that shouldn't have been here. He didn't know what it was, but it felt wrong.

He convinced himself it was because of the refusal, that it was his insecurity questioning needlessly the sincerity in Alaric's words, and so he forced the flicker out of his mind.

Damon sprang up from the bed without a warning. He grabbed the hunter's back, and crashed his lips against his own. The man tensed in surprise, but soon let himself into the flow of passion.

Damon had to push aside this doubt he was experiencing.

But if he had known, he'd have not thought the same thing, the hunter mused. Because there were reasons to worry, at least according to what the vampire would have thought if he had known.

The hunter let himself drown into this man, no, this vampire, this monster, for one last time. He allowed himself to ignore the pure hatred he felt, both towards the monster he was fucking with such little restraint, and towards himself for allowing this to happen. He appreciated to their fullest each of the vampire's moans of pleasure and lust, feeling almost sorry that he'd have to let go of this love, for it in truth was foul and rotten, no matter how pristine it looked. He did Damon so well they were both breathing heavily when they landed back on the mastress.

Damn Alaric for loving a monster.

Couldn't he have found someone the hunter could have tolerated? A woman, a man, he didn't care. But this? This was the worst kind of depravation, and Alaric's faults were unforgivable. And he was Alaric, and Alaric was him. And he was unforgivable.

The hunter looked at the vampire lying beside him. He looked at him a long time, and he couldn't understand.

Monster.

Killer.

Impurity.

And still, he loved the monster, the killer, the impurity.

He sighed. Alaric had messed it up pretty well.

This wouldn't make his task any easier. But still, he'd do what he had to do. Killing Damon wouldn't be easy, but he would do it, when the time'd be there. No vampire could be allowed to stay alive, no werewolf, no witch, none of those non-humans, and none of those who had created them, and had the power to create other monsters. He couldn't allow it.

The hunter nestled against the monster, and he felt strangely safe and well there. The vampire looked a bit put out, but he said nothing, and just tilted his head so that their forehead touched.

Why couldn't he just stay here, and sleep?

Because he couldn't. The hunter put his hands around Damon's throat, and caressed the pale skin with his fingertips. He felt the vampire shudder at his touch.

"Ric, what are you doing exactly?"

The hunter said nothing, and withdrew his hands.

Not yet.


	64. EAM, part 32: Innocent

_Set in 3x16_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 32: "Innocent"**

The hunter growled in his sleep. He had been so close to succeed, and he wouldn't even have needed to reveal himself to the others. Esther's plan had been good. To link all of the Originals' lives and end them with a single move. Alaric had agreed, and he had been just this close to do it, but obviously, the Original Bastard had had to be kind-of-immune to the white-oak-stake-thing and be able to move and stop him...

An additional dozen of seconds and Alaric would have ended it. The hunter wouldn't have even needed to step out of the shadows of the teacher's mind. Well, not exactly, since there would still have been the normal vampires and other supernatural beings to deal with, but that was easy. A lot of work, certainly, but easy. Even the oldest, the strongest vampires could be killed easily enough. Sure, you had to be strong, quick, and cunning, but it was possible to deal with them, even if you were only a human, cursed or not. Originals weren't easy to deal with. Most weapons were useless against them, in the long run, and those that weren't useless were scarce and easily distroyed.

Take out the Originals, and maybe the vampires could be eradicated.

But no, it hadn't happened.

Klaus, being an hybrid and all, had been lucky and had saved his brothers, sister, and himself. Earning Alaric, and thus, the hunter, a concussion as an added bonus.

The hunter could feel something hard under his back, and he was sure he wasn't in a hospital. Which was weird, considering Meredith had just shot him, after she had treated him for the concussion. And since he didn't feel pain right now, he guessed she had used vampire blood to heal him. Which was weird too, considering she had just shot him.

The doctor obviously knew something was up with him and Alaric, or else she wouldn't have had reason to shot him. Alaric had been so surprised, the hunter had almost laughed his ass off. Almost, because it wasn't only Alaric Meredith had been threatening with the gun, but him too, because, let's not forget that in a strange sort of a twisted way, the hunter was Alaric. So the hunter had been threatened too, and he hadn't had enough time to take over when she had fired on him.

And god, that hurt. Like. Hell.

A pity, if Meredith had figured out he was the one doing the killings. He wondered how she had possibly understood. If he could find out before he killed her, he'd be able to avoid doing the same mistakes.

If he was lucky, the doctor was keeping him prisonner in a cellar or something, to interrogate him. If so, he could free himself while she was away and deal with her in his own way when she'd come back.

That is, if he was lucky. He hadn't been, lately.

If his assumptions were correct, she hadn't kept him and his shooting a secret, and had talked to Damon, or worst, to the sheriff, who'd have told Damon. There, it'd be a problem. Alaric had no idea he was responsible, and he'd have kept it that way if he had been given the choice. Easier to act unsuspicious when you actually don't know anything you shouldn't. And if they knew, they'd keep an eye on him, or worst, they'd try to erase him. He couldn't let that happen.

He was the best that could happen to Alaric. Just a little more time, and he'd have been Alaric. Just a little more time, and Alaric and he would have been alright once again.

But no, Meredith Fell had had to be nosey and figure out he had something to do with the murders. How? After all, he had gone as far as to get himself killed to appear as a victim and not as a suspect. Well, it was also to speed up the merging process a bit. But still, not every serial killer would be so devoted to their alibi, even with a resurrection ring.

Best not to show up for the next days, the hunter guessed, and he let himself be driven back to the back of Alaric's mind, as the teacher woke up.

Ric opened his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was that he definitely wasn't in his room, or, for the matter, in a bed. He blinked a bit, trying to adjust to the luminosity of the place he was in, and that let more light in than what should be allowed where someone slept.

His sight focused slowly, and he recognized a cell.

Why was he in a cell?

Alaric got up from the bench he had been lying on, and was happy to notice he had no wounds, despite Meredith shooting him the evening before.

For a second, he believed she was the one who had killed all these people, as Damon had believed once, and that she had come back for him since he had escaped the clutch of death the first time. Not that he had really survived, but she didn't know that. No matter, maybe she had shot him, healed him with vampire blood, and taken him away in a secluded place with underground cells to question him and make sure he hadn't told anyone about her culpability. After all, she couldn't be certain he really had no memories of his attacker.

And yes, there were many place with underground cells around Mystic Falls, some even deep in the woods so that no one would hear the screams. Mystic Falls was such a lovely place.

This belief was however brushed aside when someone came in, and a face appeared on the other side of the bars. It wasn't Meredith.

It was Elizabeth Forbes.

What the hell did that mean?

He asked just that.

At some point Damon joined them at the holding cells. This was so going to blow up out of proportions and control, the teacher just knew it...

Alaric felt like his head was spinning. Him, the murderer? That was ridiculous. He had died from that nutcase, hadn't he? Maybe Meredith was framing him? But why? And seriously, no one had suspected her, and that was for a good reason. She herself had no reason to do it. Unless she was a psycho, of course, as Damon had first surmised. Oh, right, one person had suspected her. Damon. But Damon wasn't a very good judge of character, and he himself had some issues with killing sprees and trust, so...

Did Meredith really think he was the culprit? It would explain why she had shot him... But how could she think that?

After a good five minutes of running in circles between Liz who simply couldn't do anything to help because she had no proof of his innocence, and Damon who was hell bent on getting his boyfriend out of jail and find evidences when it wasn't his job and that would only make a mess if he did, Alaric was fed up with all that, and a bit angry.

He checked there was no sheriff deputy at the holding cells, and just let the Falkenbach in him come out. When he talked, his voice was cold and dangerous.

"Sorry, sheriff, but I am no serial killer. Only your average natural born killer."

Elizabeth Forbes blinked.

"What?"

Next to her, Damon stopped arguing on his own and frowned, then winced, looked up, and rolled his eyes. It was quite a sight, and Ric could have laughed if he hadn't put his serious-face on.

"Right, Liz, we forgot about that... You might have noticed that Ric over here is awfully good at fighting and killing vampires/whatever-kind-of-monsters-comes-at-him-with-unfriendly-intentions. Have you?"

The sheriff arched an eyebrow, waiting for more.

Damon put a patronizing hand on her shoulder, and the arched eyebrow rose up even more.

Alaric rolled his eyes, finding the vampire's theatrics very out of place right now.

"Well, Ric over here is human, as you already know, but he and his whole family are cursed so they don't know hesitation. They're awfully good killers, but without the killing intent or impulse, so they usually don't go aound murdering people for fun. When they do, it's most of the time out of necessity. Of course, there are a few who, since they don't care about killing, just do it, but..."

Ric coughed, feeling that the vampire wasn't helping.

"Right, anyway, that's why Alaric over here is a super-badass-and-effective hunter. But he doesn't kill for the fun of it, because there is no fun, or nothing else for the matter, in the killing for him."

"What he means, sheriff, is that 'Alaric over here' is certainly not the one who did it. Let's face it, if I were the culprit, you wouldn't have found anything to incriminate me, even by association. I have the skills to murder someone without getting caught, even more so if I get some time to prepare it. If it were me, I certainly wouldn't have left a message behind, and the message wouldn't have come from the Gilbert stash. I'd have come up with some kind of undestructible-even-if-doubtful alibi, and not spent the nights of the murders alone. As for the motives, I have no reason to do that, but you don't have to believe me there. Still, this is not the work of a sane Falkenbach, what I am, by the way, and so it can't possibly mine. If I had to guess a culprit, I'd say my cousin Theodoric, but unfortunately he has alibis worth thrice your salary for every single murder..."

Liz looked a bit shocked, and it wasn't surprising, she had just learned the local high school history teacher was a cursed man with instinct for murder. Of course, she had always known there was something about him, but that? She had surmised Alaric Saltzman was a very good fighter with a knack for the supernatural, not a natural born killer...

"And what do you suggest I do? I can't let you out on your good word."

Damon was about to talk, but Ric stopped him.

"How long have I been there?"

"A few hours, why?"

"You wrote a report about it?"

The sheriff winced almost apologetically.

"Sorry about that. But as soon as we get proof you're not guilty of anything, we'll let you out. It shouldn't hinder you with your work or anything else. It's not as if you were convicted."

Alaric hold up a hand, and shrugged it off.

"Don't worry about that. I can even say you'll get a visit of my lawyer before noon, and she'll get me out of there faster than you can say 'innocent'".

Damon and the sheriff frowned at the same time.

"Your lawyer?"

They looked at each other, shocked because they had spoken exactly at the same time, and said the same thing. Alari smirked at that, but his mood soon lowered again.

"But you haven't even made a call yet..."

"I don't have too. I'm literally stalked by my family, and they surely didn't like the news of my jailing. You should prepare yourself to meet one of them before long..."

Damon squinted disbelievingly at his boyfriend, and pointed out what had just struck him.

"Your lawyer is one of your cousins?"

"Why do you believe they are so hard to shake off? All of the Saltzman Family's lawyers are from the family itself. When one of us is accused with something, they step up immediately and get the most they can from the opposition. Even when the verdict is 'guilty', we Saltzmans always get off lightly. Mine is my cousin Magdalena Haguenhauer. She looks younger than she is, and friendly, but you should be careful when dealing with her. She'd rip you to shreads if you give her a reason to. Damon, you of all people shouldn't cross her."

The vampire put his hand on his heart, mocking hurt.

"You wound me. Do you think I'm unable not to rile up people?"

"I do."

The vampire grinned a devilish smile, stole a kiss through the bars, and left in a hurry.

"And don't get into trouble... Oh well, I guess he will no matter what."

Alaric turned to Elizabeth Forbes.

"Since you're bound to check my background history, I'm willing to play blunt honesty. I've killed a man once, who wasn't a supernatural being. That's why my mother reacted badly to your call. I've been acquitted, for it was self-defense and to protect someone else, and I was a minor at the time. Feel free to look it up, though you won't find my name on the accessible reports and newspapers: homicide on an armed attacker, in 1991, Boston."

Elizabeth Forbes left the sheriff office a bit disturbed. She went straight to the Mystic Grill, where Damon had said he'd be, and there, she watched longingly the glass of bourbon the vampire was emptying. She really would have liked one too, but she was on duty.

They were both about to leave, her to seek evidences, or lack of said evidences, him to do whatever he had planned to do to interfere in her investigation. But a woman sat next to them.

"Sheriff Forbes? I am Magdalena Haguenhauer, Alaric Saltzman's lawyer."


	65. EAM, part 33: Undoing

_I went to take a look at my mail box, at the beginning of the week, and I saw an email called "Eternity for your pleasure (35)". I was like, what the hell did yahoo have to drink? I don't have 35 emails called that? Then I look closer, and I see it a review notification. I blink. I open the email. Yep, it is. I've got 34 reviews in three hours. What the... I go on ff, and look, and phew, it's just someone who started reviewing every single chapter... Nothing to be alarmed about, then._

 _Wait, what the freaking hell?!_

 _Thanks, MADStar529. Truly._

 _See, guys? You can do as much, I won't get angry. Or just one review, once in a while, it's great too._

 _And now, on with the chapter!_

* * *

 _You wanted it? Here it is!_  
 _(No, I'm not telling what is "it". You'll have to read.)_

 _And, by the way, I have now more chapters than in part one, "Adjusting to our reality"! Cheers!_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 33: Undoing**

Magdalena Haguenhauer was a tall woman with flaming red hair and deep brown eyes. Her suit was dark grey, and her shirt matched her hair. Her smile seemed genuine and soft, but after what Ric had just told them, Damon wasn't fooled.

"Falkenbach" wasn't written on anyone's forehead, and so they always seemed like normal people, at first glance. The key part being, "at first glance". One quickly changed their mind when the "normal people" held a blade to their throat and yet looked like they were drinking tea.

Speaking of Falkenbachs, Theodoric was nowhere to be seen, and yet the vampire was certain to have seen him enter the Mystic Grill not half an hour ago. Damon wasn't going to complain about that. He had way too many Saltzmans to deal with right now. One in jail, one defending him, and one on the loose. Wait, actually, it'd be better if he knew what the lunatic was planning...

Damon looked around, but he couldn't get a glimpse of the black hair, nor of the eye patch, of the most-irritating-natural-killer-out-there.

So he looked back at Magdalena, who had started speaking with Liz, and was positively giving him the chills. How did she do that, exactly? Her voice was even, maybe kind of sweet, and her features were welcoming. She wasn't batting an eyelid as she was arguing in a civilized tone with the sheriff. Full of contradictions, that she was.

Those Saltzmans really were awesome, when they weren't awful.

In the end, Liz seemed convinced. Not that Alaric was innocent, because it had been her feeling all along, then again, you can't trust a Falkenbach's honesty because they were bloody impossible to read, and she had learned it the hard way, even if she hadn't understood it at first. But she was convinced she could let him out without anyone arguing against her decision, if this Magdalena was the one doing the talking. No matter what point she raised, the woman could simply smile and find an answer in less than three seconds, as if she had been reading her thoughts.

And that was unnerving, but right now, it was mostly useful.

If they had a serial killer in town trying to put the blame on a cursed man, Liz Forbes was certain they could use two natural born killers to get rid of him, since they had an incentive to do so. Between two Saltzmans, at least one vampire, and the police, they were bound to find out who was the killer... and it was more than probable the culprit would be dealt with quickly enough. They were targetting members of the Council, after all, and the sheriff couldn't exactly write in a report what kind of link there was between the victims. If the killer was killed, they could always say they had no idea why he had done what he had done...

It wouldn't be the first time such an investigation were to be covered up in Mystic Falls.

Speaking of which...

Elizabeth Forbes turned to look at the man with dark hair, Damon Salvatore they had said, and Magdalena stopped a frown from disturbing her countenance.

The man was strange, in a way she couldn't quite describe.

When he had looked at her, the lawyer had felt something dangerous watching her, and her instincts had told her to be careful about this paticular person. Why, she wasn't sure. Yes, he was handsome, but that was hardly this kind of warning. Yes, he seemed muscular enough, for someone of his caliber, but he wasn't a bodybuilder either, and Magdalena was a Saltzman. She could deal with someone his size if she had to.

No, there was something predatory about him, and not in the same way that there was always something predatory about her family. It was something else. More... feral, maybe? That wasn't the word, but it was the best she could come up with for the moment. And she had more important things to are about.

When Landyn had heard about what was happening to Alaric, the head of the Saltzman Family had stayed silent for a whole minute, as if trying to process the piece of information. And Magdalena could understand that.

A Saltzman simply didn't get caught for something like that. Sure, it happened that they were caught and sent to jail over a murder they had perpetrated, after all, they weren't immune to bad luck or overhelming circumstances. But they were never accused of serial murders because 1) It wasn't their thing, unless they used it to cover up something else, 2) If they started murdering people like that, the family would be on their tail soon enough, 3) Serial murders were usually done in a way that let a lot of time to the killer to plan everything beforehand, and when a Saltzman had time to plan, he wasn't caught because of an easily recognizable weapon or something as dumb as that.

And Alaric was far from being an idiot. He woudn't make such mistakes, because he was a Saltzman, and even the dumbest of the family could tell those were beginners' mistakes, and because he was smarter than most.

Which meant someone was framing one of their own, and that, Landyn wouldn't tolerate it. Last time someone, back in Boston, had tried to frame a Saltzman to his fall in society, they had discovered one didn't fuck with the family, unless they wanted to lose their own place in society, their work, and all of their money. What, no horse head under the sheets? The Saltzmans were civilized, thank you very much.

Anyway, as soon as she had heard of Alaric's predicament, Landyn had called Magdalena to handle the case, and here she was, observing this strange place, where the sheriff seemed to know something was off at first glance, and where a good looking guy who surely hadn't worked a minute in his life seemed to be her counselor or something.

"Damon, now that I think about it, I'm sure it's not the first time Council members' are targetted. Unfortunately, the police records are long lost. But maybe you have something in your... archives?"

The tone sheriff Forbes had used implied something, and Magdalena wondered what exactly. And anyway, what was that Council? The Town Council?

The man frowned as if trying to remember something far away in time and memory.

"What year?"

"1912."

Damon's eyes lit up. How come he hadn't thought of it before? He had been there in 1912, even more, he had come because a Council member, his own nephew, had been gruesomely murdered. And he hadn't been the only one.

"Oh. But... if that's the case, I'm not sure it can still go by 'serial murder'. It surely ain't the same killer, is it?"

Liz Forbes winced, knowing very well what he vampire was implying, but said nothing. Cursed woman or not, Magdalena Haguenhauer wasn't one of their own, and the sheriff couldn't even be sure that the woman did know about vampires and other supernatural occurencies.

"Serial killer or not, they are attacking my people. I have to act. And anyway, even if the culprit is only copycatting a centuries old killer, it still stand as serial murder."

"I'll take a look."

And with that, the vampire was off.

The sheriff and the lawyer made their way to the police station to free the history teacher. Waiting on the outside stairs, Liz could see Meredith Fell. She hoped there wouldn't be a scene between the lawyer and the accuser, because she didn't need that. But considering Meredith had taken care of the wound she had herself given to Alaric Saltzman, she guessed maybe the doctor wouldn't be so upset seeing him free again. Maybe. Possibly.

As far as she was concerned, and she was, because she was the sheriff of this godforsaken town, Elizabeth believed the doctor had surely overreacted when she had seen the history teacher with the knife in hand. Maybe he had asked forcefully why she had had a file on him and the murders, and Meredith had panicked and thought he was threatening her. Because Liz certainly didn't believe, no matter what either party said, that any of them were guilty of anything. Meredith simply wouldn't be able to slice someone's throat, and the cursed man certainly wouldn't have sliced his own throat, even if that gave him one hell of an alibi for one of the murders.

Magdalena stopped walking just before a young woman called out to the sheriff. She wanted to listen and observe, for now. There was something off about this place, this town and its inhabitants, and she wanted to know what it was all about. As a lawyer, she didn't like secrets, unless she was the one keeping them. Secrets could be the undoing of their keepers.

The young woman had a file with her.

"Sheriff Forbes, I was looking for you. I've received a revised version of the coroner's report, that state the time of death earlier in the evening. I'm sorry about Alaric, but it matched, and he frightened me when..."

Liz sighed at the news, happy to hear the release would be even easier.

"Don't worry about that. You handed the report, Mister Saltzman isn't hurt, and we can go back to searching for the real killer. You've done well, Meredith. I'd rather keep someone in jail for a night because you were to zealous in your assumptions, than have you killed too."

Behind the two women, Magdalena rolled her eyes. So, this was all? This was way too simple...

Alaric was going to answer her questions, because she was certain he knew what was going on in this town that nobody was telling her. Maybe he didn't know who had been framing him, no one seemed to know who was the culprit, but he sure as hell knew why everyone was behaving so strangely. A Saltzman didn't just live in a suspicious area and ignore it.

"Miss Haguenhauer and myself are on our way to free Mister Saltzman. She's his lawyer and cousin. Do you wish to come with us?"

The woman winced a bit, and Magdalena had her idea of why. If she had understood correctly, this was the woman who had accused her cousin to begin with. She couldn't say Ric would be overjoyed to see her right now, even if she came in with the key to his freedom.

But then, Meredith looked at the red head behind the sheriff, and squinted, thoughtful.

Cousin...

"It's fun, actually, I just met another of Ric's cousins, or so he said. Theodoric Saltzman, I believe. He was searching for the holding cells, to talk with Alaric, I guess. He's part of your family too?"

Magdalena had frozen at the mention of another cousin. There was only one other Saltzman around here, and...

And Meredith Fell had just said the name.

Theodoric had been insufferable about Alaric, lately, so much that Landyn had increased her supervision, suspicious when he had left to Mystic Falls. So far, he had only murdered one person, which in itself wasn't so bad, considering. But what did he want with Ric now, when their cousin was trapped in a cell?

"Theodoric?!"

Sheriff Forbes and Meredith Fell watched dumbfounded as the lawyer raced into the police station, but soon followed her. The red head seemed to go for the holding cells, and how the hell did she know where those were? For a second, Liz entertained the idea Magdalena Haguenhauer had taken a look at the layout of the station before coming, in case she had to break her cousin out.

It wouldn't be so surprising if this was the truth.

There was no one near the holding cells, and that was definitely weird.

Rectification: there was no one conscious near the holding cells, and that was definitely alarming. Meredith rushed to the knocked out sheriff deputy on the floor, and was relieved to see he was alive, though he'd have a large bump at the back of his head for a while. He didn't have his gun.

Liz and the lawyer entered the room with the cells, and saw a history teacher fighting off his deranged cousin trying to choke him out. Magdalena sweared loudly. Both Theo and Ric looked up.

"What the hell are you doing, Theodoric?!"

"You all said, and him the first, I was an inconvenience for the family. But think about it, Magdalena. Whether he is guilty or not, and I don't believe he is, for he'd have done a better job than this, Alaric is the one causing trouble right now. I've watched him, and the best one can do for the family is to get rid of him. So that's exactly what I am doing."

Alaric rolled his eyes and freed himself with a well-placed nudge of his elbow. The talking had allowed him to take back his breath, and he wasn't going to let Theo murder him any time soon.

Liz wasn't sure what was going on, but the young man with the eye patch raised the gun he had taken from the deputy and aimed. Why he hadn't used it first, she couldn't guess.

Gunshot. Blood.

Alaric ducked, and reached for Theodoric's boot. His hand closed around the handle of a stiletto knife. He rolled on his side as his cousin aimed again. Magdalena grabbed the sheriff's gun.

Second gunshot. Theodoric fell, a red hole in his forehead, and a blade sticking out of his chest.


	66. EAM, part 34: For I have to go before I

_I changed things, obviously, and so what happens in 3x17 to Alaric won't happen, it already did in this version of the story. Not exactly the same, so no need to freak out if someone does something else than what they were supposed to do, it's not my memory nor yours failing, just, you know, changes._  
 _And just imagine he'll spend more time locked up in a room ( with Damon? Hum... ) to make up for the time I deleted by avancing the timeline._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 34: For I have to go before I faint**

Elizabeth Forbes stared at the dead man on her holding cells' floor.

There was a corpse in her police station. There was a fresh corpse in her police station. There was a killed corpse in her police station. And the killers were there too, and they were talking as if this kind of things was perfectly normal. And the killers and the corpse were all cousins. Or, actually, they had been cousins, for the corpse wasn't much now, and it sure as hell was nobody's cousin anymore. Not that Theodoric Saltzman wasn't Alaric Saltzman's and Magdalena Haguenhauer's cousin anymore, but the corpse wasn't Theodoric Saltzman anymore, so it could hardly be his two killers' cousin. At best, it was Theodoric Saltzman's corpse, but not Theodoric Saltzman himself, because Theodoric Saltzman was dead, and so, not here amongst the living anymore.

Unless someone had given him vampire blood in the last few hours, which would be unlikely in any other city than Mystic Falls, but incidentally enough, they were in freaking Mystic Falls' police station, and with Liz's luck, it could totally be.

The sheriff had stopped breathing for a while now, but since the corpse wasn't coming back from the dead, maybe she could assume it was safe now and start breathing again.

She wasn't optimistic enough, yet, to believe this ended her problems, for there was a fresh corpse in her police station, and she knew the killers, and if anything that would be a lot of paperwork.

Elizabeth breathed in and breathed out. She was calming down, now. She had been faced with vampires, werewolfs, and witches, and she could totally handle a dead man in her holding cells.

So she looked at the two cousins scrouching next to their other cousin.

They didn't seem really disturbed by the fact that they had killed a family member. The sheriff could understand not liking a family member, but still. They didn't even seem disturbed by having killed someone. Then again, after what Damon Salvatore and the history teacher had told her this very morning, maybe she ought not to be surprised.

Behind them, a door closed, and Liz turned around to see who had entered her murder scene.

It was Meredith Fell, who was currently lunging for Elizabeth's belt and the bunch of keys that was hanging from it.

"Sorry, Sheriff, but gunshots in a police station are bound to attract people, and by that I don't mean only your deputies. As it is, I'd feel better if the door was locked until we agree on a story."

And the young doctor snatched the keys away from an utterly shocked Elizabeth Forbes, before going back to the door which she double locked.

As she observed the sheriff and the doctor, Magdalena raised an eyebrow. What was it with this city, really? She turned to Alaric, but her cousin only shrugged, as if this was the usual thing to do when someone had been both stabbed and shot to death in a police station, that is, to lock everyone in and make up a believable story without actually panicking.

Of course, she wasn't surprised by Ric's lack of panicking, as a death was nothing to him or herself.

And the sheriff looked reasonably shocked, but not really dumbstruck enough not to argue with the medical examiner, who didn't look disturbed at all. And they weren't Saltzmans. And Magdalena doubted this situation was usual, even for a town as weird as Mystic Falls.

She then looked back at her other cousin, her dead-and-soon-to-be-buried cousin now.

Sure, she couldn't say she was happy that he had died. Hell, she was even pretty upset to have been the one who had pulled the trigger, and if the situation hadn't been so dire, she wouldn't have done it. But Theodoric had left her no choice.

"How in hell am I to explain that to Landyn, now? 'Hey, auntie, Ric walks free, as expected, but Theo got mad and tried to kill him, so I killed him instead! Are those pancakes?'? Sounds great."

"Actually, Mag, I believe we both killed him at the exact same time."

The lawyer frowned as she looked at Ric again, for his voice had been a bit strange.

"I agree that we hit him simultaneously, Ric, but a bullet in the brain kills faster than a knife in the heart. So factually, I killed him."

The history teacher rolled his eyes. Unlike Magdalena, he didn't feel the slightest annoyance at Theo's death, for if it hadn't been the hitman, it'd have been him. And the guy had been messing with his life for quite a long time, too.

"Facts are, both wounds are deathly, and inflicted with the intent to kill. So whatever killed him first, we both are in to explain... that, to Landyn."

After having finally got back her keys, the sheriff was listening to the conversation between the two cousins with Meredith. Saying she wasn't unnerved by it would have been a lie.

"It is neither the place nor the time to speak of such things, Mister Saltzman, Miss Haguenhauer!"

Two gazes fell on her, and Liz refrained from shivering at their coldness.

Without a warning, a sly smile invaded the local history teacher's face, and he looked back at his lawyer of a cousin.

"Could you give the sheriff her gun back, Magdalena?"

The red head frowned at this, but did as she was told. Alaric followed the gun with his eyes as they landed back in Elizabeth Forbes' holder.

He looked up to her face, and met her eyes.

"Congratulations, Sheriff Forbes. You just took out a hitman and seven serial killers with one shot."

Elizabeth Forbes gasped. All of a sudden, she just yelled every thought that was passing by her brain at the moment.

"You killed him?! He was your cousin! And what do you mean, an assassin and seven serial killers?!"

Oh, there was the panic attack, Magdalena thought. It had been quite delayed, but everything was coming back into place.

Yet, she scowled at Ric for what he had just said. They didn't need a sheriff to know that kind of things! But the history teacher only arched an eyebrow at her, as if defying her to deny it.

"Come on, Mag, it's the truth, even if no one will ever find any conclusive evidence. And even if it was possible, the sheriff Forbes won't say a thing about it, will you? And yes, I meant exactly what I said. Believe me, it would be better if you just played along. Theodoric won't kill anyone else now, and neither will Mobile Maker, Tom the Hangman, the Widower, Lady Chance, Black Player, the Sobriety Merchant, and Flipcoin. They were his aliases, fictional serial killers he had created to hide his contracts as a hitman. And no, I never went to the police, because I had no proof of what I know, and the family wouldn't have appreciated."

Magdalena felt very angry he was telling the sheriff everything, but as she felt like this, she noticed two things.

First, Elizabeth Forbes was nodding silently, shocked but apparently resigned to keep everything that had transpired a secret, even if she didn't like it. The woman surely had a secret herself, or the lawyer couldn't see why she would comply to Alaric's demand. That had to be a pretty big secret.

Second, Ric really had difficulties speaking.

The history teacher got up on his feet, and her cousin suddenly knew why he was sounding off.

The first bullet, Theodoric's bullet, hadn't completely missed its target, or rather, said target hadn't managed to evade the bullet efficiently enough. Yes, he was alive. No, he wasn't unarmed.

The bullet had missed the heart, but it had found the man's side.

Before Magdalena could say anything, the teacher winced and walked to the door.

"Now that we agreed, I say you, Sheriff Forbes, found him just as you actually found him, that is, ready to kill me, and you shot him with your gun, and not Mag. It wouldn't do for you to have your gun taken away so easily by a lawyer, and it would be better for Magdalena if she wasn't officially involved. Someone thinks of something to explain the knife, for I have to go before I faint."

Liz nodded. He was right. She turned to the body, hating to have to manipulate a crime scene once again. It was bad enough with the werewolves and vampires and hybrids doing whatever they wanted to whoever had the misfortune of meeting them...

Magdalena, though, wasn't going to let her cousin bleed to his death. She had lost one already this day, and she didn't fancy a jointed burial. She rushed to Alaric, and blocked the door with her shoulder as he unlocked it.

"Ric! Where do you think you're going?!"

"To the hospital. Where else?"

Oh, so he was actually planning to do that. Good...

Meredith Fell walked to the two cousins, and to their surprise, forced the history teacher's left arm over her neck.

"I'll take him. I work at the hospital, and I have my car parked nearby. Could you please phone Damon Salvatore? He's Ric's boyfriend, and he'll want to know."

The doctor handed Magdalena her cellphone, with the number registered in it, and didn't wait for an answer. She didn't have time to spare, and could only hope she wasn't going to regret her decision to get Alaric to the hospital.

After all, she knew what was really the problem with the teacher.

Besides the wound, that is.

Not that the wound wasn't serious or anything. It was kind of actually very serious, and Alaric really needed help with that, or else she wasn't sure he'd be on his two feet again anytime soon. Well, maybe not life-threatening even if not taken care of right away, but grave enough that it could become a problem.

Yet, now that she thought of it, if the hunter was incapacitated for a while, it could be kind of great, as in, she'd be able to study his case, maybe even help him, and all that without running the risk of him snapping back into hunter-mod and scouting the city for victims.

Yeah, right, and she had already shot him and got him in jail for hours. Great idea. Meredith didn't want Ric to hate her, she wanted to help him overcome the Samantha-Gilbertish-madness-that-came-with-the-death-cheating-ring.

Once they got safely to her car, not without Meredith snapping at the deputies who had tried to keep them inside the police station for interrogation when the history teacher was obviously bleeding on their floor, the doctor settled Alaric on the back seat as she could.

As soon as the car left the parking of the police station, Meredith heard Ric's voice.

"What was that about, Meredith?"

Better play dumb for now. Who knew? Maybe he'd drop it, and she wasn't feeling like talking about it and telling him he was turning crazy because of how many times he had died right now.

"You need the hospital. You said so yourself. You certainly can't get there by yourself. I'm taking you there. I figured that was obvious enough."

Meredith could have sworn she heard the teacher roll his eyes.

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. Why do you help me to the hospital, after having shot me, healed me with vampire blood, and accused me of serial murder?"

Gah. He wasn't going to drop it.

"Right... Maybe it's not the right time to be talking about tha..."

"Meredith."

"Okay, okay, I surrender! I just gave the sheriff a false report saying you couldn't have done it because the time of death had been wrongly estimated for the first murder. I had to get her on your tracks, and then get you out of suspicions. We Fells have always been nosy, and I recently found amongst my ancestors' collection of things-that-shouldn't-be-in-their-possession-in-the-first-place-but-are-nonetheless a diary of one Samantha Gilbert who went mad after dying too many times with the Gilbert ring on. At the same time, members of the Council were murdered one by one."

There was a silence at the back of the car.

Meredith couldn't exactly blame Alaric for that.

"Are you actually saying I'm suffering from an alternate personality that not only murdered your ex and Caroline's father, but me too, that is, himself?"

Said like that, she had to admit... But that didn't make it any less true.

"He did it just when Elena came back, and I'm sure he knew she would kill you to be sure you'd come back if she had to."

Meredith parked next to the hospital, and turned in her seat to see if the history teacher was still conscious. He was conscious. And looked furious.

Two hands closed around her neck. She couldn't breath. Ric was strong for an injured man.

"I hate that you discovered about me, Meredith, but you were on the list too anyway."

The hunter. Not Alaric. Not Ric.

Suddenly, the hands came loose. The doctor could breath again. She saw a blurry face. Damon's.


	67. EAM, part 35: Our crimes are mine as wel

_Of course Alaric is awesome. I started this for two reasons: Dalaric! and f***, Ric needs to be the most awesome and badass character, damn it! This guy is just so unlucky in evrything I feel he has to compensate by being awesome._

* * *

 _Up to 3x19_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 35: Our crimes are mine as well as his**

Meredith took a deep breath, and then looked at the still form of Alaric Saltzman on the back seat.

He was only knocked out. Good. The teacher definitely didn't need to die once more, for each time he had died had most likely messed with his brain a bit more, and that badly enough to create an evil alter-ego hell bent on eradicating every kind of supernatural creatures that was a danger to humanity or had the potential to help/create others potential non-human threats. That is, vampires, werewolves, hybrids, but not only. Cursed people who, such as himself, were a danger to the normal human being. Witches, who had created those monsters, too. And maybe, if he had time, the people who covered up the supernatural side of the world.

Meredith looked at Damon Salvatore, who had just destroyed the door of her car to stop his lover from strangling her. She decided she wasn't going to hold it against him.

The vampire looked quite surprised at the situtation he had just preveted from going astray.

"Could I get an explanation now?"

The doctor got out of her car, wincing.

"The murders. It happened before. Samantha..."

"Samantha Gilbert, I know. But what does it have to do with Ric?"

"Gilbert ring. Died too often, went mad, started murdering people her alter-ego considered to have failed the town's people."

Damon raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Alter-ego?"

"Later. Since you're here, give him some of your blood. And help me get him to the scan room. I'd want to see if there is anything scientific about the madness. If yes, maybe we can help him with the right medication."

Damon said nothing about her wish to drug Alaric, because she was right. They needed to do something about this alter-ego, and simply telling Ric about him would surely not suffice.

There was nothing visible on the scans, and in the end they called Bonnie to the rescue. The witch was busy with her mother's turning, and Caroline promised she'd take the herbs back to Mystic Falls. Alaric was under watch, and he felt particularly bad when it was the blond's turn to watch him. Magdalena had decided she'd stay in Mystic Falls for the time being, and he had been lucky enough for her visits to coincide with most of Caroline's watchs. Though, lucky was an approximative adjective, since his cousin had started questioning him about the strangeness of Mystic Falls. If the teacher wasn't careful enough, there would soon be another Saltzman in the know in town, and he wasn't sure it was a good idea.

Nonetheless, each time he saw Caroline... He had killed her father, for God's sake!

They both were at the boarding house, Damon having decreeted he wouldn't let his favorite hunter to brood in his loft when there was everything they needed at his home. Books, and much alcohol. And a comfy king-sized bed to do things.

The vampire had been rather put out when he had been told they wouldn't be doing things.

But he hadn't complained, when Alaric had pointed out the hunter could very well come out while they'd be doing things, or that, actually, it could very well have already happened.

As kinky as it sounded, Damon had not fancied the idea of being at the mercy of the vampire hater/hunter if he decided to appear when he'd have his legs spread and Ric's cock deep into his ass.

But for now, Damon was busy making how-to-kill-an-Original-in-seven-simple-steps plans, and it was Caroline's turn to make sure Alaric wasn't going back to being an evil bastard whose dearest wish was to see them all dead.

And the vampire couldn't help but feel torn between anger and pity for her history teacher.

Pity, because he had no way of stopping his alter-ego.

From what she knew, he had always had a difficult life, being a Falkenbach and all, and then with Isobel and Mystic Falls and everything. He had often needed to battle against himself, his ease with killing, and coming to the small town hadn't helped. Here, he had to kill often, because it was kill or be killed. His victims here were vampires, mostly, and that was alright, and at the same time it wasn't, because the man had learned they weren't all evil, and sometimes he had the temptation to end all his problems with humans as he did with vampires, to protect the ones he cared for, to make the men and women who knew and could talk shut up. But Alaric Saltzman had never had to fight a man that was himself and yet didn't care about the same things, a man who was here when he wasn't, and wasn't here when he was.

Anger, not because he had killed her father, that was the hunter's doing, but because he wouldn't see it wasn't his fault, in fact.

It wasn't as if he had asked to be killed so may times he'd turn crazy.

Caroline looked one last time at the man lying on the Salvatores' sofa with a grim expression on his face before deciding she had had enough of his attitude.

"Don't look like that, Ric. It's not your fault."

The teacher looked at the young vampire, and there was self-hatred in his eyes.

"Of course it is. I did it."

"Your body did it. The hunter did it. You didn't."

And that was true. Alaric had been nowhere near conscious when the hunter had acted. When he had killed the medical examiner, when he had killed her father, when he had put himself on the edge of life and death to force Elena to finish him off, the teacher hadn't known.

Maybe that explained why he had told them of Klaus mentioning a conversation he didn't recall.

Caroline pushed the Original Hybrid out of her head. Well, she tried, at least.

No matter how many time she told him "no", he came back, and now he was doing the exact same thing even when he wasn't present. Caroline was sure it wasn't good news.

Even if Tyler and her were growing away since he had become a hybrid. Seriously, the guy was going back to the asshole he had been before triggering his lycanthropy.

Klaus, on the other hand, had always been the same bastard, and...

And it was definitely not the time to think about the bastard.

Caroline refocused on the conversation.

"Even if what you say was true, Caroline, the hunter is still part of me. He's something, someone I could have become if things had turned out differently. He's someone I became, or else he wouldn't be here. It's not because I'm here too, that he isn't me. We are two versions of the same person, and our crimes are mine as well as his. And the worst is that I'm no regular human. I have the skills, the strength and the instincts to murder someone as easily as to make tea. And so, he has said skills, strength and instincts. The only thing that made me human, and not only a monster, was that I didn't have the will to kill. But he does."

Yeah, right, that was problematic, but nothing they couldn't handle.

"We have Bonnie's herbs. You'll be alright, and we'll get rid of of the hunter sooner or later."

"Just make sure it's before I kill someone else."

Alaric had only mumbled the last part, but he had no doubt Caroline had heard him. And not to his surprise, she didn't let him get away with it.

The young vampire knew she had to say something, so she talked. She talked, about things she'd better forget. She talked about the first and only innocent she had killed, and how, then, she had understood that no matter what she pretended, she wasn't the same anymore, and would never be again. She talked about the time she had had to kill two deputies right before her mother, to save the Salvatores brothers, and that even if she knew they weren't angels either, and made no distinction between vampires, all monsters, all evil, she also knew they probably had a family, and people who needed them out there. She talked about the looks her mother had given her in the cell underground the boarding house, the days that had followed. She talked about things she didn't even knew she was disturbed about, and soon enough, as she talked about Tyler, she stopped talking all of a sudden.

She had been about to talk about Klaus' gifts.

Alaric couldn't ignore it, and for a while he forgot his own problems.

After half an hour of merciless prodding, the teacher was surprised enough by his interrogation to have a big smirk on his face. Sure, the Original Bastard wasn't the guy he'd have advised his student to date, then again, it wasn't his business, and it was always better to know your true feelings. That way, maybe Caroline could get rid of them.

Or maybe not.

But if she had remained ignorant, they'd surely have stayed in the back of her mind, without being allowed to get out. You don't open your door to someone you don't even know is here, be it to come in, or to get out.

Anyway, for now, Caroline was the one gasping with a glass of bourbon in her hand. She wasn't sure when she had started drinking in her tales, but she sure as hell knew why, now.

"Oh my God I'm falling for Klaus! Someone tell me I'm crazy, please!"

She sent the history teacher a pleading look, but he shrugged it off.

"Don't look at me. I'm dating a guy who killed me twice. I'm no example."

Unfortunately for her, they had a visitor, and the windows were open for some reason. The visitor had heard it all with his super-damned-vampire-way-too-cheated-hearing. He had been searching for Caroline Forbes, and still didn't know why she was confined with the Falkenbach, but he couldn't say he wasn't pleased by what he had heard so far.

So, being way too pleased with himself, Klaus rang the doorbell of the boarding house.

He couldn't come in, but that didn't mean he couldn't be sassy and invite the young blond vampire to dinner from the doorstep.

When the door opened on the Original's face, Caroline blinked, flushed, and thought of slamming the door right away.

She didn't have the time to do it.

"Look at him if that's all it takes for you to love me, sweetheart."

Panic took over.

"You heard that! Oh my God he heard that!"

And she closed the door to his face.

Klaus shrugged. It wasn't as good as acceptance, but it was far from a refusal. He'd wait. He had time, after all, and so did Caroline. She wouldn't say no forever. He'd wait.

Even if that meant he'd have to behave about killing off her friends.

When Caroline got back to the library, the history teacher was back to brooding.

The next days proved to be rather hectic.

Then again, when were they not in Mystic Falls?

If Alaric had had to resume what happened during those days, he'd have said "shit happened, and then the end of the world". Not refined, true, but far from wrong. Between learning that killing an Original killed all the bloodline, and surprise!, they didn't know who was Stefan's, Damon's and Caroline's sire!, forcing Stefan to threaten the hunter into revealing where the hell he had hidden the white oak stake, between Klaus learning about his alter-ego issue and Damon dealing as badly as ever with angry Originals, these days had been hell.

It was even worst that he couldn't really do anything to help, unless maybe kill himself, but Damon had gotten him off the vervain and compelled him not to do that, just in case.

Damn it.

Why had he fallen in love again?

 _If there is one thing I agree with you about, Alaric that would be it. Why did you feel the need to fall in love with a monster, really? It's bad enough that you still are the strongest personality, but I also have to deal with my feelings for a vampire I am bound to obliterate. You swore to make our life hell, didn't you?_

The thought startled him, but Alaric didn't have the time to ponder about the fact that the hunter and hims had grown close enough for that to happen. If he had had the time, he'd have been terrified, for it meant the other one was about to take control permanently, for it meant the hunter would soon be Alaric Saltzman, and himself would only be a memory, somewhere in the madman's subconscious.

He didn't have the time, because Klaus was there and determined to get the hunter to talk.

It was quick, and painless.

But maybe it was because he was becoming accustomed to dying. Or because it was so quick he didn't have the time to register the pain. Alaric wasn't sure.

What he knew, on the other hand, was that he died a sixth time.


	68. EAM, part 36: A lesser evil

_3x19 and 3x20_

* * *

 _warning: rant_

 _I had planned to write this chapter wednesday. Blame my english teacher, according to who I "TRY to write in an elevated language, creating an impression of preciosity that is not welcome and only highlight your poor proficiency in writing english", roughtly translated._  
 _Let me say one thing: I. Do. Not. Try._  
 _I write like that. I don't TRY. (Obviously, I had tuned it down with the orality in my writing, since it was for school...)_  
 _Blast her._  
 _And of course I'm not bilingual. If I was, I wouldn't be in her class. That does not mean I'm completely hopeless either. I like to think I'm not so bad, thank you very much._

 _Of course, I don't think she meant it to be insulting. But that's the thing with her, she doesn't notice when she says vexing things. I know that. Doesn't make it any less upsetting._

 _Tell me My writing style is so not Anglo-Saxon, and I will agree with you. But don't tell me it's precious, and never, never even attempt to tell me I'm TRYING to write like that. I don't._  
 _Now, I'll let you read my poor english._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 36: A lesser evil**

When Alaric woke up, he was still Alaric.

And that was relieving as well as disappointing. He knew they needed to get the hunter to talk, and even if he had been the one to suggest a more... direct way of contacting his alter-ego, the teacher still wasn't confortable with losing his body to a psychopath and that with no idea of when he'd get it back. If he ever got it back.

Such doubts.

Strange, weren't they? Why would he have doubts about the whole thing? Such a wonder.

But he had to do it. He had to let the hunter out, and have Stefan question him about the stake. He had to, if he wanted them to go on living. Even if there was a risk that he'd never come back.

If it proved to be necessary, they'd just have to kill him, and then take the ring away while he'd still be dead. Damon wouldn't be happy about it, but at least he'd be alive. Vampire-style. Undead. Whatever.

Ric wasn't going to ask anyone to live in perpetual fear that the hunter would one day get an opportunity to end another line of vampires.

True, they could just kill him right now, and the white oak stake would remain hidden where he had left it. Yet, the teacher was far from convinced no one would ever get their hands on it, and then... Depending who "someone" would be, it could be great or terrible.

He wasn't going to ask such a thing of them, to wait for the stake to come back into the game, and to kill hundreds of vampires in one go if the one using it was to be lucky in his tentative.

Of course, Alaric could see how that could be good, in a way. The hunter was him, and he was the hunter. They weren't complete opposites. They shared a past, if anything. And they knew very well that all vampires weren't as cute and nice as Stefan and Caroline. Well, when Stefan wasn't going all Riper, of course. And yes, the teacher had omitted his boyfriend in that thought, but it was totally intentional. Despite Damon's latest improvements, he still couldn't be considered as a cute and fluffy one.

Hell, that'd be frightening, if the vampire ever got to be considered that way.

Cute and fluffy?

Yeah right.

Anyway.

Alaric Saltzman knew getting rid of another vampire line would do much good. But unlike his half-crazed alter-ego, he also knew it would do as much evil. Not all vampires were bad, as not all vampires were nice. He wasn't willing to kill them all because some of them were bad. If he acted like that, he could as well kill his whole family, including himself, because there was always the risk one of them would turn out like Theodoric had. And even amongst those who weren't insane like Theo, there were a few who were still bad, for they used knowingly their indifference to do contract killings or similar deeds. So thinking like that, that all vampires should be exterminated, and no, thank you, he wasn't willing to let himself become a dalek, Doctor, get out of his mind this instant!, thinking like that would be hypocritical if he didn't turn against his own kind afterwards.

 _But who said I had no intention of doing just that?_

Ah, the evil alter-ago was revealing himself. Would he be kind enough to go all the way and discuss with the nice vampire over there? Because Alaric was pretty sure the hunter wouldn't just tell him were he had hidden the last white oak stake just because he asked nicely.

 _Damn right you are, Ric. And no, I have no intention to get out and discuss with your... friend. I have nothing to kill him with, and there is no gain in talking with him._

But that was where the evil-alter-ego-from-hell was wrong.

He certainly hadn't expected Alaric to go this far. The teacher had truly gone bonkers. No wonder he had appeared in the man's mind. "Alaric" couldn't be trusted with himself right now, or he'd have never asked a vampire notorious for his lack of control with his bloodlust to beat him to the edge of life in an underground cell with no one to call for help if said vampire lost it.

There really was something wrong with the current "Alaric". He had to take over. Quickly.

Yet, the hunter believed the teacher would tell the Salvatore vampire to stop, if he was unsuccessful long enough that he'd really fear for his life. For a moment, as they both took in the punches and kicks, because after all, they only had one body, he wondered if, seeing the vampire continue to harm him regardless of his pleas for it to stop, Alaric would finally understand. For even if the monsters seemed to have some kinds of feelings, the hunter couldn't deny that anymore, not after Damon, not after their love, they still were monsters. The younger Salvatore brother seemed reluctant to hit very hard at first, and the hunter guessed it was because Alaric and him were friends. He seemed to hesitate quite a lot, actually.

But the hunter knew.

Stefan Salvatore was a monster, just like Damon. They may have had feelings, but nothing could overcome their true nature. Now that he had started, he wouldn't stop. And if Alaric didn't realize that pretty soon...

But the teacher was doing it on purpose. He wanted the hunter to come out, and the hunter had to say, it was tempting even if only to stop his face from further looking like a battered bloody steak.

Alaric started riling the vampire, and after a time, the monster couldn't take it anymore.

Punches. Kicks.

And yells.

Anger.

Alaric knew how to anger someone. He knew the words that hurt. He had no remorse using them. He knew, in the back of his mind, in something that sounded a lot like a conscience, but wasn't really, because it only worked in a cold, calculating way for those kinds of things, he knew it wasn't right. But he knew only because that was how the world was, how normal people were supposed to think. How he had seen them behave.

But Alaric was a Falkenbach, and if he wanted, he could just ignore the rational part of his brain, and go with the flow, with the practical part of it. He merely chose not to do it on a daily basis.

There was no such thing as feelings involved in doing what he did.

And he needed the hunter to come out and speak.

So for once, Ric would forget about the tiny voice of his self-made conscience.

Alaric really wasn't going to make it stop.

The hunter came out.

Nevermind ridding the world of all evil/supernatural freaks, he wouldn't kill even another normal vampire if he got himself killed for waiting too long. It wasn't as if any of the fanged monsters could get to the stake on their own, after all.

But he wasn't going to just tell them. He needed them to follow him in the cave, without knowing exactly where the white oak stake was. If he could make that happen, the hunter would be safe in the no-vampire area, and with the stake. Sure, they could get someone else, a lot less dead and so a lot more able to get in the guarded area of the secret cave, to come in, kill him, and hand over the stake. But it would be difficult, for there were few living beings who would be able to get rid of him. Some sport-freak, perhaps. One or two werewolves, too. But those had been driven out of town or made hybrids by Klaus. So, not there, or dead. That let only a witch, and so Bonnie.

Such a pity, the hunter thought. He kind of liked the young woman. But if she came after him...

Well, it wasn't as if she was not on list anyway.

Bonnie Bennett was a witch, and a friend to many monsters. She had to die, in the end.

So the hunter put up with a little more beating, until one Rebekah Mikaelson came to the boarding house, sulking at being ordered around by her brother.

Then, he thought that maybe, it was time to give in.

"Okay... I get it! You... want the stake. I'll show you where it... where it is."

Blood was dripping from his lips, his teeth, his nose, and, overall, his whole face. His side was aching and he was certain he had at least two bruised ribs. And of course, his shoulder was aflame with pain due to his sixth death. On the bright side, he was in such a state he could barely feel it.

Oh well, to make a long story short, he felt like he could die any time. But he didn't care.

There was only one white oak stake left. He was going to go exactly where he had hidden it. Escorted by one of the Originals. And she wouldn't be able to take the stake away from him. There was only one Original he could kill with the stake before it burnt into flames.

Maybe he'd find another way, one day. Maybe another white oak would grow in Mystic Falls, in a few decades or centuries. It had happened before. Why wouldn't it happen again? He'd be dead by then, but if he could leave instructions... There was still a chance the world would one day be done with vampires.

If he could get to the cave, stake Rebekah Mikaelson, and go on his merry way murdering every other monster that wasn't an Original up till the end of his life, that would already be quite a lot.

Barbie Klaus' voice took the hunter back to the present.

"Hell no. If anything, you tell us where it is, then I decide whether or not I kill you right now or wait a bit, even if it is just to see if your original personality will ever come back, after all, we all need distraction, and in all my years I have never seen a case such as yours."

The hunter spat some blood.

"As if. You don't have a choice. I won't tell you where this stake is, and it will take days for the vervain to completely leave my body. Unlike with a vampire, you can't drain me without killing me, and I'm not sure even the Gilbert ring can give me back my blood if you drain the vervain out."

The Original squinted at him, a thoughtful look on her face.

"I'm sure I can figure out something, involving a lot of suffering, blood, and torture, that will make you talk. But I appreciate your concern."

"You don't have time to waste with that. Klaus seemed very... eager to get the stake back and burn it. We both know he can be unsufferable when he doesn't get what he want. He wants it now, and he will not leave you alone if you take your time to play. So there is only one way. You following me to where I hid it, me bargaining for my life, and once the trade is over, I leave town for good."

Barbie Klaus scoffed at that, but she looked like she was considering his offer. After all, she hadn't even wanted to take care of the white oak stake business, and Klaus had just said "go", implying "before I get angry and unpleasant". Not that she didn't want the stake to be destroyed. But if she could finish this early...

Or at least that was what her thinking process and faces looked like to the hunter.

"Alright. But..."

The Original Vampire left in a blur, and came back in the same fashion only one minute later.

She had a ring he knew too well in her hand.

"See that? I saw it last time I came over. I'm quite curious as to which one of you stole it from my dear brother... Anyway, I can't kill you if I want the white oak stake back. But if you do even one suspicious move, I'll shove it down your throat."

The hunter eyed the amethyst ring warily, but well... It was still better than to be killed on the spot. And he suspected he was so sore it wouldn't be so terrible, all in all.

"Deal."

So they went to the cave.

The hunter walked in the no-vampire-allowed area. And then came back with the stake.

Saying he was surprised when Rebekah Mikaelson got past the barrier would be an understatement. Saying he was surprised when she revealed herself to be Esther Mikaelson possessing her own daughter's body would be another understatement. But saying he wasn't pleased with her coming back to take care of her despicable offspring would have been a lie.

He accepted her offer, and lied to everyone, telling them he was taking some time off to work on destroying his alter-ego. It wasn't so much of a lie, actually. Alaric hadn't come back. He was still here, and the hunter could feel he wasn't yet the true "Alaric", but he was close.

With her on his side, the hunter had a chance to get rid of every single Original, he thought as the witch made the last white oak stake indestructible, using the Gilbert ring. He didn't really like her plan to make him into an unkillable vampire to get there, but he'd be linked to Elena's life span, so it was a lesser evil.

She killed him. Without warning. Seventh time.

Now he knew why she hadn't told him exactly how the turning would go. He'd have been quite reluctant to agree, if she had. But at least, he'd soon kill all vampires in the world, and the witch that had created them. Esther wasn't the only one who kept things to herself.


	69. EAM, part 37: Walking on borrowed time

_Set in 3x20_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 37: Walking on borrowed time**

It hurt.

And at the same time, it didn't.

Alaric felt like he was dying when he woke up.

That might have been because he actually was dead, yet wasn't.

The teacher looked down at his chest. That was where it felt strange. And what he saw confirmed it. It was bloody. Blood. His own. His blood. Out of his veins and arteries. Out of his body, on his ripped shirt. Out of his heart, because there had been a huge hole in it only minutes before.

He wasn't sure how he knew, because he couldn't remember anything after the hunter had taken over his body, but he had that feeling, that there should have been a hole in his chest, a hole right in his heart, and that it was the reason for all the blood.

Well, it seemed he had died. Again.

Alaric forced himself up, and it wasn't easy, for he felt heavy, very heavy, as if his bones were weighing one ton each. As if he wasn't supposed to be back up. As if he was supposed to stay put, because he was supposed to be dead, and dead people weren't supposed to stand up out of their own will ever again.

Alaric forced himself up, and it wasn't easy, because he felt too light too, as if he wasn't in his body, as if it was only his soul/mind/spirit/call-it-whatever-you-prefer that was standing up, and so his body didn't want to get up, because it wasn't part of him anymore. He was having trouble feeling his body, he realized, as if he wasn't really in it anymore.

Alaric forced himself up, and it wasn't easy, since he felt very heavy and too light at the same time.

This wasn't the usual resurrection process.

He tried to look around, to recognize the place, but for now, everything was just too bright... or too dark. He could only see pitch black pierced here and there by a yellow light. A bit as if he had a hangover, and yet not quite.

Ric squinted, and eventually managed to see something more than yellow and black. If he focused on the in-between...

This was the Salvatore crypt.

What was he doing in the crypt?

Last thing he knew, he was supposed to get the hunter out so that they could find the last white oak stake...

And now he was in the crypt, feeling he had died once more, and yet unable to remember, feeling this wasn't a normal resurrection, and by the way, when had resurrection become something normal? What had happened?

Alaric brought his hand to his face, and squinted harder. The candles were too bright, and the darkness was to somber. He couldn't see very well, but it was getting better.

He blinked.

Ric had died, he was sure of that. And now he was alive again, even if he wasn't feeling very well. But there was no Gilbert ring on his finger.

He brought the other hand before his eyes. Maybe he had put it on the wrong hand. With everything that had happened lately, he felt he had every right to be confused about one thing or two.

But what had happened lately?

He still wasn't sure.

Alaric blinked, and looked back to the first hand he had looked at. And then back at the second hand he had looked at. There was no ring.

And yet he wasn't dead anymore, and yet he was alive again.

A strange taste on his tongue caught his attention. He knew he was familiar with this taste, but... He couldn't tell what it was. As if it had become something else, not in itself, of course, but to him.

Ric froze. There were voices outside the crypt.

He knew these voices. But they weren't quite the same as before. It was as if they were louder, in a way, even if he knew they were not just near him. Not, not louder. Clearer, maybe.

The taste of blood in his mouth was soon forgotten as another taste invaded his mouth. Bitter. Bile.

So obvious. He wasn't dead. But it didn't mean he was alive either.

Undead.

Turning.

And no Damon Salvatore in sight. If his vampire of a boyfriend had anything to do with this...! But no, no Damon in sight. And Damon wouldn't have staked him in the heart, he would have broken his neck. And Damon would be there, to force-feed him if needed now that he was turning.

And Damon wasn't here, so he most likely had nothing to do with it. The hunter was the culprit, Alaric was sure of it, though he felt it was kind of illogical for the most-anti-vampire-cursed-guy-in-town to turn himself into a vampire.

Screams.

The voices outside had gone from whispers to screams of fear and despair.

He picked up the stake that was lying next to him, and recognized the white oak stake. Well, at least he now knew where it was. The only question being, why was it covered in metal?

Panic.

They were panicking, outside. He had no time to wonder about that. The stake was the only weapon he could use in the crypt, and he had nothing to destroy it right now, so he'd better join the screaming people out there, and if he could, put an end to it.

He thought he recognized Elena's, Jeremy's and Matt's voices. And another voice, but...

Who was it?

"He will end the horror I brought upon the Earth when I made my children into vampires, Elena. You can't stop it, and you shouldn't try. No one is supposed to escape death forever."

He knew the voice. He knew it. It was a woman... a woman he had met, but a woman he had met before meeting her. It didn't make any sense... But he knew she had talked to him many times, before he had even got to meet her in Mystic Falls. He remembered her voice...

And the words that sounded so true when she talked, as if she was charming everyone with her voice alone. He knew these words... And the hunter knew them too. He was the one who had met her first. This woman... She had something to do with his latest death.

Alaric grabbed the white oak stake, and stood up, slowly, with difficulty, because his body was heavy. Or not really here. He wasn't sure. It wasn't that it really hurt. More like the ghost of a long forgotten pain. He knew, in his brain, that it hurt. His punctured heart. His scar that was certainly red and bulging. But in his body, he didn't quite feel it. It was there, and yet it wasn't.

He was dead, and yet he wasn't.

Actually, he wasn't even undead yet, because he hadn't completed the transition. He wasn't a vampire... Yet he wasn't dead nor alive. Walking on borrowed time.

"Mikael was a good Hunter, of course, but he was only a bit stronger than our children. He was an Original Vampire, and nothing more, with a slight difference in force due to his built. That's the reason he never managed to kill Klaus. He wasn't enough. But Alaric Saltzman... Not only did I make him even stronger than an Original Vampire, so that he'll be able to face the Original Hybrid, but he is a bearer of the Falkenbach Curse, a curse older than even vampires. Whispers were heard in all Europe when I was first alive. Even all the way to Norway, when they were from what has now become Germany. The Falkenbachs... They were humans, and yet, I believe they were as dangerous as werewolves when in human form."

This woman... She was talking about him.

And she seemed to know things about his family he wasn't privy to.

Ric got out of the crypt, and saw the blond woman talking to Jeremy and Matt, who were pointing their weapons at each other and didn't seem to be able to stop. Next to them, Elena was panicking, trying to get Esther to stop whatever she was doing.

"If the legend is true, they are the greatest killers mankind will ever know. Considering how their curse came into existence, it wouln't be surprising. Alaric is the obvious choice to end the abomination I created. Once the hunter will have become 'Alaric', this story will end."

Esther?

Esther.

The Original Witch. Even if it wasn't quite accurate, because it would have implied she was the first witch ever, which she wasn't. But she was the witch that had created the Originals, so maybe it could be called accurate, in another way?

Whatever.

She was the one who forced the boys to threaten the each other's life, and Alaric wasn't going to let her do that. She had done enough damage as it was.

He walked to them, slowly, with difficulty, and no one paid him any attention. He wasn't going to blame them, and frankly, it was for the best right now. It was almost too late, Esther was about to make the two boys shoot each other... It was almost too late...

The teacher caught her by the neck as he pushed the white oak stake in her back, killing her on the spot. He was pretty certain he had broken her spine in doing so.

The Original Witch fell to the ground, and he was left with three young people gaping at him. A pity, he could have asked her what she knew about the Falkenbachs. How they had been cursed in ancient times. And then, find a way to undo this curse.

Because there was always a loophole.

But for now, the loophole was laying dead in a cemetery, not that it wasn't an appropriate place to do just that, but still. Ric looked at the corpse at his feet, and then back to Elena and the boys.

What happened next wasn't a happy moment. When he asked why he was there, why the Gilbert ring had disappeared, Elena thought he hadn't understood he was in transition. So she explained to him everything that had happened, and he didn't tell her he had understood. It wouldn't do them any good. The stake coudn't be destroyed anymore, and he was going to die. For real, this time.

They tried to convince him to turn...

But he wouldn't.

If he did, he knew the hunter would take over before long, and no one would be safe. An enhanced Original with the Falkenbach Curse and a white oak stake that cannot be destroyed? If the hunter completed the transition, they were all doomed.

And even if he turned, he couldn't even fight against the hunter for control. He knew it. He didn't have much time left. The hunter would overcome him as soon as he'd feed. So he wasn't going to.

Elena called everyone that mattered, and they came from the decade dance, finally free of Esther's spell. It was almost humoristic how many of them were his students, or supernatural beings. Or both. It was definitely not a regular funeral wake. Then again, not many people could be present at their own funeral wake without faking their death. And not many people had died seven times before it came to this.

When they left, Alaric went back inside the crypt, and Damon joined him.

They sat and the vampire took out a bottle of bourbon.

"Do I get a last kiss?"

Ric snorted. He wasn't going to be fooled.

"Certainly not. You'd be able to force-feed me by regurgitation of someone's blood. We both know I can't afford that."

There was a silence, as they both looked far in the distance. Damon as well as Ric knew without a doubt there was no deeper meaning to their behavior, besides avoiding to look at the other's face.

"You could try, at least."

"Even if I turned, Damon, it wouldn't be me anymore. And it would only be worst for you, because I know he loves you as much as I do... Only, the hunter would rather see you dead than a vampire. You wouldn't be able to do anything against him, and not only physically speaking. You know it."

Alaric felt tears slip out of his eyes. It was terrible, when he thought about it. It was their last moment, and he couldn't find anything to say that wasn't reasoning.

He finally turned to Damon, and looked him in the eyes.

"It's strange, you know. I was never truly humane to begin with, and now that I am not a human being anymore... I feel more humane. Maybe it's death. Maybe it's because I will finally be like everyone else. Dead, in the end."

Before leaving, Damon took Ric's head in his hands, and kissed his forehead.

Alaric finally felt the false life in him disappear, and he closed his eyes.


	70. EAM, part 38: This wasn't going to be pl

_Set in 3x21_

* * *

 _Okay, by the way, last chapter Damon left just a bit earlier than in the show, so he missed Bonnie._

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 38: This wasn't going to be pleasant**

Damon looked at his glass a long time, and did nothing else. There was bourbon in it, and the vampire was certain it was all he needed to forget, even if only for a little while, what had happened to the man he loved. One glass of alcohol, and then another, and another again. It was all he needed.

But he only looked at the glass.

All he needed to get drunk was here, but he wasn't drinking, despite everything.

Some people said that drinking after a tragedy was a way to forget, and that continuing to do so afterwards was a way to stay unhappy on purpose, because happiness hurt more than grief, or so they thought. Damon couldn't deny there was something contenting in misery. A feeling that no matter what others may say, one is the only person who can truly understand what was ultimate misfortune. An impression that one is different from others, who can only guess what one is experiencing. Unhappy, but better, or worse, than anyone else. Different.

But the vampire didn't want to forget, that night, that Alaric was lying dead in his family crypt. He didn't want to revel in his misery thanks to drunkness.

It didn't mean he was ready to move on.

Just that if he wanted to revel in his misery, it wasn't in a drunken stupor.

So he stared at the glass, and drank nothing of it. If he had felt bad, he would have drunk. But he only felt angry, and filled with a lot of sarcasm.

Damon Salvatore truly wasn't supposed to get his happy ending.

The vampire was still staring intently at the glass of bourbon, arms crossed and under his chin, himself sprawled on a table at the boarding house, when something happened.

He couldn't have said what, because he didn't care. Alaric was dead, and had killed the real culprit before leaving for the afterworld. Damon couldn't even murder Esther in some gruesome manner or another to vent out the part of him that was angry. The other parts were, respectfully, sad, lost, desperate, and in denial.

So he didn't go to the front door when the bell rang.

Stefan, who had been glancing awkwardly at his brother for the past hour, shifting on his chair and unable to focus on the book he had taken as an excuse to stalk Damon, remembered too well what had happened when the older vampire had been bitten by a werewolf last year. He was determined to keep an eye on Damon, but still went to the door... hoping his brother wouldn't do anything stupid meanwhile.

Not that Damon had made a habit of doing stupid things. Apart from killing people he shouldn't kill. Upsetting people he shouldn't upset. Destroy things he shouldn't destroy.

Right. Damon's plans usually went south no matter how well planed. But there, it wasn't about planning things, and if Stefan left his brother alone, the vampire was totally able to play the suicide card without anything going south. Because usually, the plans that went well were those that were supposed to hurt people to begin with.

For years, Stefan had believed his brother to be unbreakable, and he would have laughed at the prospect of Damon killing himself. Last year had changed his beliefs. He suspected that meeting Alaric had changed Damon in a good way... but also into fragility.

Stefan sighed and opened the door.

It was Bonnie waiting outside, a hand on her neck...

And the unmistakable smell of blood.

"Bonnie, what has happened?!"

Stefan looked at the young woman, and she had fear in her eyes. This wasn't going to be pleasant. He didn't know what it was going to be, but it wasn't going to be pleasant.

He heard Damon coming to them, maybe mildly curious about why Bonnie was all bloody in his house. Mildly only, because he had more interesting things to mope about. Curious, still, because... Well, because.

Bonnie opened her mouth to answer, but she paled when she saw Damon behind Stefan. What would he say? Would he be glad, despite the obvious problem, or would he be furious that in the end, Alaric had lost his fight against the hunter? If "Alaric" was still alive, there was a chance they could still get Alaric back. Bonnie doubted it, truthfully, though she knew there was always a loophole. She doubted it, because no matter how things went from now on, they surely wouldn't have the time to find said loophole. And if "Alaric" was alive, it also meant that an unkillable vampiric psychopath cursed to be the perfect killer was walking around in the body of Damon's beloved. Sure, it was still "Alaric", in a way, and from what they knew he liked them as much as the original Alaric did, but he hated them at the same time, and wouldn't back away from killing them all for the sake of his own feelings.

The young witch removed her hand from her neck, and looked back at Stefan. She couldn't look at Damon.

"The hunter fed. He's still out there."

One second before, the glass of bourbon had been in Damon's hand.

Now it was shattered on the floor, and Damon's pants were soaked with alcohol.

There was a long silence.

Then Damon got himself back in the game, and there was a hard edge to his voice.

"Don't tell me you suddenly felt the urge to ensure our utter destruction."

"The spirits of the witches possessed me to go and feed him. I think I arrived there just after you left, Damon, but I'm not sure. It was as if I was in a dream."

"Your stupid magic ancestors have once again got in the way! Great! Well then, you'll ask them to help in undoing their mess, because we now have a vampire that is possibly more dangerous than Klaus to deal with. I mean, sure, we could just run away and let the Originals deal with him, since they're surely his primary targets, but there's still a problem. Our sire dies, and we're all caput."

The hours after that went in a fog for Damon. Everything was so clear, his mind was so clear, it was almost transparent, almost non-existent, actually. The vampire acted, and that was all. He certainly said some snarky remarks, but it was as if he wasn't really the one saying them.

He was here. His body was there.

They heard about Alaric's whereabouts through Rebekah, and they had to say, it wasn't pleasant news. Esther had made it difficult enough with her choice to make a Satlzman into an enhanced Original, but as she hadn't had a white oak to bound his life to, the white oak stake was no good against the hunter. It didn't even have the basic good point of a normal stake on a normal Original, that is, temporary death. Good news, though, he didn't like the sun anymore than any other vampire. Bad news, he could withstand it, settling with constant combustion countered by accelerated healing instead of simple, definitive combustion.

Well, "they had to say" didn't include Damon, because he was on autopilot.

So now the hunter was in the school, and not grading paper. His current activities were more like torturing student / vampire / namely-Caroline-Forbes. And making Elena watch. And waiting for Klaus to come and try to get his Petrova doppelganger back. Let's not forget waiting for Klaus. While torturing Caroline. But waiting for Klaus came first, of course.

Torturing Caroline in the meantime.

This part was what didn't make it with Klaus, who had decided he wanted his spare tire, his flashlight, his Petrova doppelganger, and his potential girlfriend with him before leaving town. He didn't like the part where the hunter wanted him to let himself get killed, of course. But what he had heard lately from an unsuspecting Caroline had been giving him hope, and he didn't like the torturing-Caroline-Forbes part at all.

Allying themselves with Klaus came as some sort of relief, and at the same time it was alarming. Not because they were allying themselves with Niklaus Mikaelson, thought that fact was parlous in itself, but because if the Original Hybrid was strong, he was also the only thing that kept most of them alive: the creator of their bloodline.

All in all, Damon was doing as he was told.

Which meant, he was about to go along with Bonnie's plan, and hell, how he had come to hate the word "plan" lately, and enter a building with the crazed alter-ego of his boyfriend in it. He took the blood sample from the witch, and didn't ask anything. He knew the plan. Actually, it even gave him a little hope. Not much, but still. If they kept Alaric desiccated for long enough, maybe he'd come back to reason.

He deliberately ignored the part of his mind that reminded him of Hans and his killing sprees each time he managed to get out of desiccation.

They went in.

Damon wasn't sure how it came to this, but at some point, he and Stefan found the hunter and Elena. Elena had been raising a valid point: why was he not killing her, if she was such a traitor to the human race?

But Damon didn't care, and still on autopilot, he did what he had to do. He fought.

Unsurprisingly, he was far from a challenge for the hunter, who had more strength and speed than even an Original, and whose fighting instincts and skills were those of a Falkenbach. Before they knew it, Stefan's neck was broken, and before he knew it, his own was too.

What happened after, he couldn't tell, but at some point his spin went back into place, and he heard the sound of a cellphone buzzing. He opened his eyes.

And saw Alaric, sitting next to him, looking at him intently. In his eyes, there were both deep hatred and incommensurable love. The "Why am I still alive?" froze on Damon's lips.

He knew this was the hunter...

But it was also Alaric, and not a dead Alaric, not a lifeless Alaric. An Alaric full of extreme feelings, not exactly his Alaric, but not a stranger either. Some kind of caricature of the Alaric he had first met, who had wanted his death more than anything else, and who had been human.

Stefan woke up too, and the hunter with Ric's face told them they had to stop Klaus from killing Elena, because she was his anchor into the afterlife.

When he let them go, Damon couldn't get up, and so he stayed still on the floor while Stefan was rushing outside to find Bonnie and save Elena, who had definitely no luck in life.

The hunter had not stopped staring at him. He hadn't moved at all. He was still sitting next to him.

"I told you to go and save Elena."

"Alaric..."

His voice was pleading, Damon knew that, but he wasn't concerned about it. For once, he didn't care if he had to beg, if he had to supplicate. Ric was here, he knew it. It wasn't just the hunter, some stranger. It was Ric, only a Ric that had followed another road. The hunter and Ric were the same person, with the same past, the same feelings. The hunter was just brainwashed.

He could get Alaric back.

He had to believe it.

"Go."

But Damon couldn't get up. Not now that Alaric was looking at him. Not now that Alaric was alive.

"Ric, please! You have to be ther...!"

Damon didn't get to finish his plea, for the hunter had pulled him up from the floor and was now kissing him with fierce passion. The older vampire froze when he felt the veins bulging under his lover's eyes and against his skin, when two fangs grazed his lips.

The hunter backed away, in shock, panting and way too alluring vamped out like that.

"Alaric, don't...!"

"I hate what you are, Damon. Not who you are. And I will kill you, because you deserve to be freed from this abomination that is vampirism. I love you, but you deserve better than this!"

Damon stayed still, completely unable to speak or think. He stared at the hunter, and this time, he was sure Ric was still somewhere in there, he just had to...

But the hunter couldn't do what he had just told the older vampire, and his feelings got the better of him once again. His feelings, and his new condition.

He leaned towards Damon, and bit. His eyes were closed for a second, as he forgot about everything else. When he opened them again, they were hard with a terrible resolve.

He spoke as he wiped the blood off his face, and Damon knew he had to run. Only, he couldn't.

"The damned witch was right. I can't kill you like that... And I can't switch off my feelings, because I'm still a Falkenbach. Then, I guess I'll just have to use it..."

The hunter took out the amethyst ring that suppressed all humanity in a Saltzman's mind, and swallowed it.


	71. EAM, part 39: Until nightfall

_Set in 3x22_

* * *

 **Each a monster, part 39: Until nightfall**

Alaric had swallowed the ring. He had swallowed it. No more feelings. Nothing to stop him from...

Damon wrestled himself away from the hunter, and ran for it. He shouldn't have been able to, but if the amethyst ring had one capacity he was currently thankful for, it was that while it took away every single shred of humanity in a Falkenbach, it also caused them great pain for an instant. And the hunter hadn't just touched the ring for one instant, which would have caused intense pain and turned off his feelings for a few seconds. He had swallowed the thing, certainly to make it so his humanity wouldn't come back and prevent him from killing Damon.

The hunter's scream resonated in the whole school, and Damon ran.

The scream stopped. He wasn't out yet.

He pushed the door. He heard the hunter blurring after him.

Damon leapt into the sunlight.

He turned around, and saw the expressionless face of Alaric Saltzman, vampire hunter and enhanced Original, cursed man and inhumane foe. The unkillable vampire was standing just at the limit between shadows and light, and he was looking at him.

And this time, there was nothing, absolutely nothing in his eyes. No love, not even hatred.

The hunter talked, and his voice had no tone.

"Hold onto hope, Damon Salvatore, and save the girl. Your time will eventually come, but hope, and in doing so you will allow me to finish my task. You know that by saving her once again you'll ensure your undoing, but because you have hope, you will save her nonetheless. Go. You have until nightfall, and then the Originals will all be dead, and you alongside them."

And the hunter did not move, staring at him in all his inhumanity.

This time, Alaric was gone for good.

Damon's heart shattered as he broke eye contact.

Alaric was gone.

He rushed to Bonnie's side, and they decided they'd use the spell she had tried to use against the hunter on Klaus, since he was likely to kill Elena now that he knew he couldn't best the hunter. Tyler agreed to participate, and no one missed how he was avoiding looking at Caroline, who herself didn't look pleased with their decision to desiccate Klaus, but said nothing, because she saw no other way to save her friend. No one missed that, except Damon, who was still too shaken by the absolute blankness he had just witnessed in Alaric's eyes.

Out of despair, he called a number he hadn't called in years, not since he had done something that had upset her so much he feared for his life next time they'd see each other. His life was already on the line, and Ariane was too far away to do much damage before the hunter managed to kill them all. And well, Ariane was still a friend, even though she might have liked his head on a spike for her birthday gift.

If there was one person who knew how to deal with nearly immortal supernatural beings, it was Ariane. She was older than anyone he knew, and had seen a great deal. Maybe she knew something he could do, be in it killing the newest Original or saving his sanity.

But Ariane didn't answer her phone, and Damon ended up leaving a message that surely sounded like a bunch of insanities.

What happened next was to him like a blur. Klaus, Elijah, Alaric, Jeremy, and finally the phone call. Driving out of Mystic Falls with Bonnie and Klaus' coffin to hand over to Rebekah. Waiting alone.

What drove him out of the blur was the unexpected sound of the hunter's voice instead of Rebekah's, and Damon more or less jolted back into consciousness.

As the murderous Original checked all the storage lockers, the older vampire made his way to the entrance he knew Rebekah would use, hoping to get to her before the hunter did. But he was too late, and she had already started calling for him, saying it was hardly the time to play hide and seek, and she was surprised he even had the heart to do so after all that had happened. Damon wouldn't ask how she knew about his relationship with the psycho that was trying to murder them all.

The sound of the lockers being opened stopped, and Damon grabbed and gagged Barbie Klaus before she got staked with the white oak stake.

Together they had almost got Klaus' coffin out, but the hunter finally found them, and staked the desiccated body.

There was a scream, and Rebekah's despair. There was the fear in Damon's eyes.

She ran away. He stayed behind.

He was dead anyway. His sire had died, and he was going to do as much very soon. And even if he hadn't been, Alaric was too far off, and way too strong for him to fight for his life.

Damon let himself fall to the ground, and he looked up at the hunter, who was still before the coffin with the body in it. Strangely, it hadn't completely burned, but all in all, it didn't matter. The stake had done its job, and was back into the hand of the hunter.

"What do you want?! Kill me, and let us be done with it!"

But the monster that had once been his lover only watched Damon as he said that.

"Why? You are going to die anyway."

"Then I don't know, go after her, hunt Rebekah, and Elijah too for all I care! But don't stay here, don't look at me like that, with his face, don't talk to me with his voice, and get his body the hell out of my sight!"

But the Original before him, the Original who had Ric's face, Ric's voice, Ric's body, the Original stayed there, and stared at him, as if wondering how much time it would take for him to die after Klaus' death.

"I can live with killing only one of them this evening. There are only two left. And even if they are good at hiding, I am a Falkenbach. I am good at tracking people down. Sooner or later, they'll die."

There wasn't even the wrath the hunter had had before. There was nothing.

All that because of the damned ring!

And Esther, too, of course, damned bloody Original Witch, but she was dead, and he couldn't do anything about the fact he didn't have the possibility to take revenge, so he'd settle with complaining about the ring.

He should never had taken it when Katherine had told him about it, and that way, the hunter wouldn't have been able to put his feelings away. Sure, he'd have still hated them all, wished their deaths, acted for these deaths to become reality, but it would have been better than what was in the hunter's eyes right now.

Absolutely nothing.

Alaric had already looked at him strangely, when he looked at him like a Falkenbach, all emotions veiled, and once, Damon had thought it creepy, because those eyes were the eyes of a dead man. But it had never lasted, it had only been for a few seconds, or if it had lasted longer, because his boyfriend had been hiding something for example, Ric's body language had told him what his eyes wouldn't. It didn't matter that it was a carefully controlled body language, it was still better than nothing. When Alaric kept something to himself, his eyes were entirely empty of all emotion, but he let his body act according to what he didn't want to hide.

There, there was absolutely nothing.

All because of one tiny magic ring made of amethyst, with the Falkenbach seal carved on it.

All because of that.

Damon's eyes lit up suddenly with a sickly gleam, and his face bore a new determination when he looked back at the hunter. He'd rather die by the Original's hand, with all his hatred and love for him reflected in Alaric's eyes, than agonize in front of a monster who felt nothing as he watched.

Damon launched himself at the hunter who wasn't expecting it at all. Nevertheless, the Original was also a Falkenbach, and he reacted in the blink of an eye, breaking one of the two arms that had just torn his shirt. But the older vampire was determined, and despite the pain, he kept pushing with his other hand, until the skin of the stomach broke and let his fingers in.

Blood dripped on his arm, and the hunter seized the hand that had started rummaging his guts.

He was strong, way too strong, and even if it must have hurt, such a wound could do no lasting damage to a vampire, let alone an Original. Even if it had, Damon doubted the hunter could feel anything, for he had the ring in his body, and the seals on his shoulder and on the amethyst must have been resonating like crazy, making a mess of his sense of touch and pain. Not that the hunter cared, since he wasn't humane anymore. At most, it was a bit inconvenient.

"What are you doing?"

The question mark was barely audible, because there was no tone, no emotion behind it. Not even frustration or mild interest. It was nothing more than a question to figure out what Damon was trying to do, because this wasn't something the hunter had expected. It wasn't something that could worry him either.

But if the hunter was way stronger than Damon would ever be, the older vampire was desperate.

"What are you doing?"

In a last attempt before his hand was taken out of the hunter's body, Damon's fingers found what they had been searching for. One single tug from the hunter, and the hand was out, with what it had seized.

The hunter's eyes became glassy for one instant, and then everything came back. A whirlpool of emotions, granted, not as many as it would have been if the hunter had been a regular guy, and not a cursed one, but still so many more than just a second before, a whirlpool of emotions appeared in the blue of those eyes. The hunter's face distorted into something that was between monstrous and wonderful, because there was so much anger, and yet, so much love, and most of all, because there was finally something after hours of nothingness.

"What have you done?!"

Alaric's voice thundered, and Damon was so relieved to hear a tone in it that two tears escaped his lashes and rolled down to die in a battered smile.

"I've brought you back, my love."

And he opened his hand, releasing a digusting substance that was mostly made of gastric fluids and blood. One shadow fell faster than the liquid, and when it hit the floor, it did it with a metalic tinkle.

A ray of artificial light fell on it, and as the blood flowed to the ground, the hunter saw a violet glint.

The hunter, with his emotions back, kicked Damon hard in the ribs, and the vampire got flung to the nearest wall. The disturbing sound of some of his bones breaking from the shock resonated in the room.

"Why do you always have to complicate everything, Damon?! What can't you just let it happen! I can't stop myself from loving you, and yet I can't do anything else but kill you, or get you killed, eitherway, same thing, same result. You have to die, don't you understand that?! You deserve better than this dratted condition, and the only other alternative for you, for both of us, is eternal rest! We are dead, and so we shouldn't be here, walking, and yet we are. I have to end it, and make every vampire on this planet disappear, for we are abominations!"

The hunter glanced at the ring, but shook his head, clearly angered and exasperated. He let it there, and walked to the one he loved so much that killing him was so difficult, even if necessary.

"You wanted me to come back? Here I am, and I'll make sure you won't enjoy our last minutes together. You should die any time soon, now, but I can make you suffer as much as you condemned me to suffer when you decided we couldn't do it the easy way! You, Damon Salvatore, are going to wish you had never taken this ring out of my stomach!"

Then it started, kicks and punches so strong they shattered Damon's bones instantly, and with those, twisted limbs and ripped out teeth. The hunter only waited for it to heal the bare minimum before going at it again, and his face was as messed up with tears and winces as the older vampire's, though he was the one doing the beating.

But Damon regretted nothing, despite the pain, despite the suffering, because at least he could see emotions on Alaric's face, and that was all he asked for in his final hour.

Then it hit him, as surely as the hunter's heel landed on his stomach. He wasn't feeling any weaker than before Klaus' stabbing, considering the massive blood loss he was experiencing.

But before he could think anything of it, a punch hit him on the face, and it wasn't strong anymore.

Damon looked up, and saw Alaric stagger, and his legs give away. The older vampire reached for the Original, who fell in his arms, going grey, going venous, sputtering water, dying.

Dead.

Alaric's ghost watched, as his lover started crying over his corpse.

Then he closed his eyes, and disappeared.

* * *

 _Ah ah, I'm so evil..._

 _To be continued, don't worry._

 _But I'd like it if you look for the hints to what will happen in the next part, "One world apart", I mean, aside from what happens in the fourth season and that I will use to a certain extent, as I did for seasons 2 and 3._  
 _"One world apart" should begin some time in January. It will be shorter than part 1 and 2, like around 25 chapters, I think... Meanwhile, I might work on one or two oneshots._


	72. OWA, part 1: Eternity to fall apart

_Alaric died, and now, Damon is a mess. A right mess. Ric's ghost watches as his lover is going from one pit of hell to another, and he can't do anything. That is, for now._

 _Of course, while Damon is a mess, and is making a mess of things as a consequence, others are also making a mess in Mystic Falls._

* * *

 _See? I told you. Sometime in January. Well. There it is. I'm not a liar._

 _*go hide in a hole*_

 _If you kill me, you won't know what happens next._

* * *

 _set after 4x01_  
 _Have to add some days between 4x01 and 4x02_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 1: Eternity to fall apart**

Damon stayed there for what seemed like hours, Alaric's body in his arms. Surely it was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours nonetheless.

After a while, he laughed shakily. Now every single instant of his life would feel like that. Hours for an instant. Eternity for a minute. Eternities, until he'd die, killed by a hunter, another vampire, or maybe even by himself.

It wasn't the same thing as when he had lost Katherine, all those years ago. With Katherine, he had been bitter, because he knew that despite his unwavering love, she loved Stefan more than she loved him. Back then, he hadn't known how much it was true, and he had hopped she loved him still, even if less than his brother. And he had known that in the end, he would get her back.

Waiting a few decades wasn't easy, and he had been bitter, but waiting was nothing to a vampire. Even if he had been young, back then, he had known it was only a matter of time before he got her back. He had done horrors to keep the frustration of the wait away, he had killed, slaughtered, and bathed in blood at times. But he had been able to wait.

Ice-blue eyes fell on the dead body in his arms.

This time, there was no waiting to do, no hope to have. Alaric was dead, and he wouldn't come back. Ever.

Without a word, Damon let the body on the floor to stand up. He checked he was still alone, not that he expected anyone to come to their locker unit in the middle of the night. He didn't want to have to explain why there was a half-burned corpse with open eyes in a coffin, nor why there was another corpse that wasn't in a coffin on the floor. Yes, he could have simply compelled anyone who would come and ask. But with the state he was in, he wasn't certain he could pull it all just right.

Glancing one last time at Ric's lifeless form, he wiped away the tears that were obstructing his sight.

He had to clean up this mess.

The coffin, the body, everything in the car. He'd cry later. He had cried already, and he would cry later, but not now. He had to go back to Mystic Falls, and to know what had happened for Alaric to die like that.

Damon knew there was only one explanation, but he didn't want to believe, not yet, not ever, that in spite of having lost Ric, he had just lost Elena too. He might not be obsessed with her anymore, he still cared for her. Actually, he now saw her as something as a sister. A true sister, not some sister-in-law bullshit because she was going out with his brother. She could be just as annoying as a sister.

The vampire didn't want to lose a sister on top of his lover.

Before driving off, direction Mystic Falls, Damon allowed himself a whole minute, sitting with his back against Klaus' coffin, so that he wouldn't see Alaric's corpse, that was laid on the other side.

"You're doing it wrong, man. As a human you kept on dying, and just when you became immortal and nearly unkillable, you went away for good."

Of course, he wasn't speaking to Klaus.

Then he sprang into action, finding it easier to just ignore what had happened and drive like a crazy vampire all the way back to Mystic Falls. He had eternity to fall apart, after all. He could spare a few hours to learn if he really had more than one reason to end his life right now, right there.

Alaric wouldn't have wanted him to give up and kill himself.

That is, the true Ric wouldn't have wanted him to. Ric-the-psycho, on the other end... But Ric-the-psycho was no more. As was the true Ric...

Ignore the pain. Ignore the tears. Ignore the gloom.

Drive.

Fail to register the pain, the tears, and the gloom. Do it on purpose. He would allow himself to break down, only once he'll know how many reasons he had to do so. He would cry, and be hurt, but not for now. Not that it didn't hurt yet. It did. But he would ignore it.

Why?

Because he had to.

Because if he didn't, he would just go into a blood bath. He had to wait, so that he'd take it easier afterwards, and not start to slaughter anyone. Alaric wouldn't have wanted him to slaughter anyone without a reason.

What happened when Damon got back to the boarding house was... unexpected.

Though he was a bit relieved that Elena wasn't dead-dead.

It didn't make him any less sad, but it at least didn't make him sadder. Her death would have made him sadder.

After that... well, most of the Council got blown up. It wasn't him, he swore. He was too busy moping about the unfairness of life to murder anyone, lately.

After two days, Damon moved in Ric's appartment. Thanks to compulsion, no one asked anything.

Stefan raised an eyebrow at his decision, but said nothing. Elena tried to know if he was doing alright, even if she knew he wouldn't possibly answer "yes". She wanted to help him, and he appreciated her willingness to support him, but she had enough going on with her new life as an undead girl who should definitely not drain her brother or her schoolmates of their blood. Stefan was determined to make her follow his diet, and Damon was feeling too down to be sarcastic.

He stayed there for a while, locked into Ric's loft, filling his nose with the faint scent of the man he had loved, staring at the clothes the hunter wouldn't wear anymore, glaring at the mirror in the bathroom because it wasn't his reflection that should be there, but Alaric's.

Stefan was bringing him blood bags, and always asked if he planned to come out at some point, less exasperated than worried for his brother. Damon could hear it in the younger vampire's voice.

After one week, Stefan finally got the courage to speak about it.

It. The thing that would possibly set Damon's off.

"What do we do about Alaric, Damon?"

The older brother stared at the younger vampire quite dumbly.

"What about Ric?"

Stefan's eyes went to the coffin that was still next to the bed. That had been there for one week. And that, if he let Damon do as he wanted, would stay there even once it'd start to smell.

Stefan wasn't sure that having the decaying body of his lover next to his bed would really help Damon to get over it. He was quite sure of the contrary, actually. And it wasn't the only problem.

The younger Salvatore looked back at his brother, trying to sound as cool as possible.

"You can't keep him here, Damon. And we have to come up with an explanation as to why he suddenly disappeared. The school is asking where its history teacher went, this time, and the sheriff can't just..."

"Tell them he's got some family business to attend to. I don't know, maybe his mother is dying, and he won't be able to come back. But he's staying there."

Stefan frowned, slighty irritated.

"We have to bury him at the very least."

Damon moved a bit, to stand between the coffin and his brother.

"I'm not letting him go."

"Damnit, open your eyes, Damon! Alaric wouldn't want you to destroy yourself over his death. If you really can't stand his death, kill yourself, but don't wait for the madness of grieving to get to you and make you do things we both know you'd fall back into, and that are exactly what he liked the least about vampires. Don't go and prove him he was wrong about who he had come to see you as, and right about who he first thought you were!"

Damon took a step towards his brother and grabbed him by the collar, but no words would pass his lips. He knew Stefan wasn't completely wrong, and he knew that keeping his lover's body in an apartment that wasn't even his but the said lover's was everything but healthy.

He just couldn't let go of the coffin.

When he saw it every morning as he woke up, it did two things: first, it forced him to remember that Alaric was dead; second, it made him feel as if the hunter was still by his side.

And Damon simply couldn't give up on this.

He let go of Stefan's shirt, and went to sit at the dining table. Stefan joined him, a glass of blood in his hand. Damon took it gratefully, and emptied it before saying anything.

"Very well. We'll get him buried next week, but you deal with the formalities. I want a grave to go and cry upon, but not his name on it. He's gone out of town, he went back to Boston, to his family. I won't have everyone in Mystic Falls know he's dead, and I refuse to see the pitying looks on anyone's face. They might not have known we were together, it was still pretty obvious he was my best friend."

Stefan sighed in relief.

"We can't have him 'go back to his family', Damon. Magdalena has been asking about him, and she'll know we're lying."

Damon squinted at the mention of 'Magdalena'. With Ric's death his brain had almost shut itself off, and now he was completely oblivious to what wasn't about his dead boyfriend, a bottle of alcohol or a blood bag.

Stefan rolled his eyes, unable to believe that his brother was so deconnected from reality. Aparently, he had been waiting for a good reason to do that for quite some time.

"Magdalena Haguenhauer. Red headed. Deadly. A lawyer. And a bloody Falkenbach."

Damon's eyes lit up for a second, before going back to a darkened state that had been theirs since the hunter's death.

"Right. Well, find something else. He moved out for no-one-know-what-reasons, and he isn't coming back. He told no one where he was going. Just don't make him... dead."

His voice was strangled as he said the last word, but Damon had said it nonetheless.

It hurt as much as the first time, if not more.

"Just... do it."

Stefan nodded, and walked to the door. He turned around one last time, as if intending to say something, but he eventually kept quiet. Damon wasn't yet ready to hear any kind of speech about how Alaric would have wanted him to go on without him. It was so obvious someone could have written it on his forehead with a permanent marker.

Once alone again, Damon went to fetch a new bottle of bourbon in the kitchen part of Ric's loft, and he gulped down two mouthfuls in a blink, wincing slightly as the taste of alcohol overlapped the taste of blood already present in his mouth.

His cellphone rang, but he didn't bother to answer. Either it was one of the supernatural gang of Mystic Falls, or it was Liz Phorbes, hoping to know beforehand if his grief was likely to end up with him gruesomely murdering someone tonight.

Alright, he might be a bit harsh on them. They were worried about him. Most of them. Maybe not Bonnie, and certainly not Tyler. Oh wait. Tyler was dead with Klaus. Right. That only left Bonnie. Strangely enough, the witch didn't like him. Wonder why. It wasn't as if he had killed her mother and her boyfriend. Oh wait. He had. But they hadn't stayed dead.

Then again, Alaric had tried to murder him a couple of times, and he still loved him more than anything. Even if he wasn't much of a fan of the twisted version of Ric that had taken over the very peaceful-if-deadly-when-needed-history-teacher.

No matter. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them. It wasn't as if anyone could tell he was inwardly harsh with the people who were worried about him right now.

Damon put the bottle back on the cupboard it came from. He walked slowly to the bed that had been Ric's, and let himself fall on his face onto it.

His nostrils flared as he smelled the faint scent the hunter had left onto the sheets. It was becoming fainter by the day, disappearing slowly as he slept in the bad, replaced by his own scent. But for now, it was still there. And somehow, it was enough for him to calm down a bit. Just enough for him to fall asleep.

As he dreamed, Damon found himself still lying on the bed, but resting on his back.

And the other person on the bed with him was blond, with blue eyes.

 _"You're hopeless, you know that?"_

Alaric was lying on is stomach, his chin in his hands.

 _"You're supposed to be alive, Damon, or at least undead. What's the point in brooding like you do? There's none! I can't honestly say I'm not happy that your care enough about me to grieve, but this is too much. You're only ignoring the problem, as if it would disappear one day."_

Then Damon drifted into a dreamless sleep. Next to him, a ghost sighed, exasperated.


	73. OWA, part 2: Lonely

_I'd rather not say anything._  
 _Let's just say that... Ric is angry at Damon._

 _set in 4x02_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 1: Lonely**

 _"'No, really, Alaric, you're getting worried for nothing, I tell you. Look at me! See? I'm alright! Perfectly so!'"_

Ric stopped pinching his nose, and glared at the vampire he had been poorly-but-deliberately-so imitating. It wasn't as if Damon could hear him, anyway. Which meant that he couldn't see the dark look he and his glass of bourbon were at the end of either.

The hunter's ghost was currently sitting next to his (former?) boyfriend, just on the seat "that was taken". Damon, glass of bourbon in hand, was certainly moping right now, and it was starting to get on Ric's nerves. Badly. It had been more than a week since he had died, and there he was, stuck in ghost-form, and stuck watching one certain black haired vampire brooding.

As much as he loved Damon and did not actually want him to just move on or anything, because well, it had been only nine days since he had died, Alaric was growing worried, and so, irritated, with his fool of a lover.

First, it had taken the guy one whole week and a shock treatment speech from Stefan to get the older Salvatore to leave his apartment and started living again. If it could be called "living". And Ric wasn't thinking this because Damon was technically dead, so, you know, bad pun and all. No, it was simply that now that the vampire had walked the hell out of the loft that wasn't even his, but Alaric's to begin with, the hunter had found out that Damon had done so only to get stunned at the Mystic Grill.

Second, Damon was starting his third bottle of alcohol. Ric knew. He had counted the glasses, and added up, those glasses amounted to two bottles and one third. Damon had been at the Grill for exactly thirty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds, forty-eight now, and he had already gulped down two bottles and a third of bourbon. And of tequila. The hunter had never seen the vampire drink tequila before, but apparently, there was no more bourbon, and Damon was too desperate to have a drink. Or several drinks, as it was.

Third, the vampire had been keeping Alaric a seat, waving off both the sheriff and Elena, when they had tried to talk to him. Sure, it was sweet. But it was also a bit creepy, considering that Damon had kept his corpse with him in the loft. Next thing he knew, Damon would take the body out on a date.

Well, maybe not, but the hunter was too angry with the self-destructive behavior of his boyfriend to be rational.

Alaric pointed his finger at the glass that was making its way to the vampire's mouth, a crooked smile on his face.

" _Of course, Damon, there is absolutely no reason for me to worry! It's not as if you were slowly becoming a drunk. A drunker drunk than ever. A drunker drunk vampire who to get really drunk needs at least ten bottles of wine because his accelerated healing would normally keep him soberish!"_

If there was a downside to being a ghost, besides the obvious, about being dead and all, it was that Ric was absolutely unable to interact with the world of the living. So he could shout or sneer at Damon all he wanted, the idiot wouldn't even know that he was there, watching him destroy himself slowly.

For the past days, he had been happy enough watching over his boyfriend, and occasionally the kids. At first, he had been more than satisfied that the vampire hadn't simply gone on a rampage and started murdering innocents once again. But this day, was too much.

It had been too long since he had begun to watch Damon act like the fool he was.

" _'Ah, but, Ickle Rickykins, if I get drunk enough, maybe I will get hallucinations of you, and then, I'll be happy once again! Eh? What do you think of that, hum? Don't you want to talk to me again, Ickle Rickykins? That's a cute nickname, that, Ickle Rickykins! I shall keep it for later use, since I'm sure you hate it as hell and are wishing you could be making me stop saying it, Ickle Rickykins!'"_

The ghost glared once more at his lover, even if the words had come from his brain and not from the vampire's. That was how angry he was.

The silent vampire put down his glass of alcohol, gazing at nothing in particular. He looked like the world had come to an end, but had forgotten to take him with the rest of humanity / whatever-the-big-group-of-humanoid-supernatural-beings-he-was-part-of-should-be-called.

Damon looked lonely.

Alaric sighed, knowing full well there was no point, aside from venting his anger at his helplessness, in continuing to pretend that the vampire could hear him and was making a fool of him. Though venting his frustration was a pretty good reason to do anything, if you'd ask him.

" _And I'm definitely not making a fool of myself right now. You can't hear me, you can't see me, and you surely aren't thinking of calling me Ickle Rickykins in the future."_

The hunter squinted at the imperturbable and sad face of his lover.

" _Though if you are, I must warn you that I will find a way to haunt you more effectively. Like, nightmares and all the crap."_

It was lucky for Ric that every ghost on the Other Side seemed to have their own "other side", so that they wouldn't see him act this foolisly.

Not that he knew that for sure. But for now, he hadn't seen anyone else, so unless they were avoiding him...

Ric rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the bar counter, readying himself to another half-hour of seeing the vampire he loved fall a bit more into despair.

Two minutes and six seconds had passed so, when a fiery red flash caught his attention near the main door of the Grill. The hunter turned around, searching for the colorful person that he suspected was his cousin, through the slightly blurry mist of the Other Side.

Magdalena, for it was truly her, was making her way to them.

Or, more likely, to Damon, since Alaric doubted very much that she knew his ghost was here with the vampire-that-she-also-didn't-know-to-be-a-vampire.

The lawyer, with her red hair and her red suit, went to sit down onto the bar stool that her ghost of a cousin was currently using.

"The seat is taken..."

Damon's voice had stopped her, and the Falkenbach moved to another stool. Unlike Elena, she didn't go for the one on the other side of the vampire, but for the one next to Ric's. There was one empty bar stool-that-wasn't-so-empty-but-how-would-they-know between them.

The young woman asked for a drink, and then looked at the dark haired man who had talked. She remembered him from the day she had come into Mystic Falls. He was... He knew Ric, she was sure of it. Maybe he would know why he had disappeared so suddenly, without a word, only the excuse that "he had to go" that had been given to the school.

Even Landyn hadn't been able to tell were Alaric was, and that in itself was alarming. Landyn always knew where the members of the Saltzman family were, if only to keep an eye on their more disturbing habits. When one went off the radar, it usually meant trouble.

If such a thing happened to Alaric, it was more than disturbing. Her cousin wasn't one to be up to no good. He was dangerous, yes, maybe he was even the most dangerous of them all. But he wasn't dangerous as in easily tempted to act rashly. Ric was one of the moderate Saltzmans.

But such a thing had happened to Alaric, and so it was alarming.

If her cousin had gone off the radar...

Magdalena couldn't help but think that something had happened to him.

She closed her eyes for a minute, drinking her cognac. The more the young lawyer thought about it, the more she was convinced that she had to talk with this man, Damon... Salvatore. Yes, it was his name. She opened her eyes, and turned slightly to look at him.

He had several empty glasses before him, as if he had drunk more than one type of alcohol. He didn't look like he was drunk yet, but the smell said otherwise. Still, he behaved well, if a bit depressingly.

His voice had sounded very matter-of-fact, she mused, almost automatic.

As if he hadn't been really thinking as he had talked.

Maybe he was a sad drunk.

She wondered if it had anything to do with Ric's departure.

If it was actually a departure, and not one of the definitive sort.

"Who is it taken by?"

Damon turned slowly his head towards the woman that had talked to him, eventually remembering that she was Alaric's cousin from the freaking-cursed-family. He'd have to watch his tongue.

"It's Ric's."

He glanced mournfully at the empty seat, and looked back at his glass of bourbon.

"He should be here, but he's gone."

Gone, as in "dead", said ghost thought dryly. But hopefully, Mag wouldn't take it that way.

It was bad enough that when the two of them looked at each other, they were actually looking through him. 'Ever had people look at each other through you? No? Well, all you need to know is that it feels really, really awkward.

Magdalena, as it was, was a bit suspicious of the way Damon had talked, but not for a bad reason. The young woman ordered another cognac, and decided she would get as many answers as she could from this man, for she was certain there was more to it than he said.

After all, Alaric "should be here", but wasn't. The man had said it himself.

"You miss him?"

Damon raised a mildly disbelieving eyebrow at the hunter's cousin.

Said hunter winced as he took the full blow of that raised eyebrow. He definitely didn't like being looked through.

"Ric was the first friend I had in years. My best friend. More."

Unbecknown to the vampire and the living Falkenbach, the only dead Falkenbach in the Mystic Grill stiffened at that. There was so much suffering hidden in that last word.

He knew. He could hear it.

And from the look on Magdalena's face, she had heard it too.

The lawyer's voice was softer when she spoke again. She didn't want to be overheard, not in a little town such as Mystic Falls, not about what Damon Salvatore's tone implied. But it wasn't all. She didn't want to hurt him more than he already was.

If her cousin had found peace with this man, then so be it.

Magdalena had to rein in a shaky laugh, as she mused that maybe homosexuality was the solution to the family curse. If they all ended up with a partner of the same sex, there was no way they'd be able to pass on the curse to the next generation, since obviously, there wouldn't be a next generation.

It really wasn't the time to laugh about that.

"Do you know why he left?"

The young woman saw a painful grimace take over the man's features, and she decided not to prod too much yet. It still hurt, it was quite obvious.

After all, Alaric had left Mystic Falls, his work and his life. But it wasn't all that he had left behind.

This man too had been left behind.

Damon didn't answer, in the end, but after a time, and another glass of bourbon, he looked again at Magdalena Haguenhauer, the Falkenbach who had known Alaric for years.

"Tell me about him, please."

The young woman stayed speechless for half a minute, surprised, but eventually smiled warmly.

Ric's ghost, on the other hand, squinted at his cousin. He knew very well what she was doing.

Mag was definitely trying to get close to Damon, to make him talk. The only question was, was she doing it for her own knowledge, or because Landyn had asked her to? If not for Landyn specifically, maybe for the family in general? If it was the case, it did not bode well for the peace of the town, once she'd know for sure that there was something fishy about his "leaving".

Because if there was one thing the hunter was certain of, it was that, if his cousin had decided she'd get to the bottom of it, there was no way in hell or heaven that she wouldn't find out more than he was comfortable with.

"Once, when Ric was three years old, his parents took him with them to the main house. My mother, his aunt, told me that after three hours of talking, Diane suddenly noticed that her son wasn't anywhere in sight. Everyone went to search for him, and they eventually found him behind a bush, looking in silence, eyes squinted, at a garden snake..."

Oh well, the ghost thought... If she managed to make Damon smile, he wasn't going to complain.


	74. OWA, part 3: The name of the ghost

_Damon is behaving like a foolish vampire._  
 _Oh, wait, he is a foolish vampire._

* * *

 _Set in 4x02_

* * *

 _Don't behave like Damon does, it's bad for your health._

 _And by the way, yes there is going to be some more brooding._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 3: The name of the ghost**

Damon had ended up in the cemetery.

Alone, in the cemetery. Which wasn't surprising. He had always been alone. And when he hadn't been, it had never lasted. There were those people who didn't really care, like Katherine. And there were those who just died. Like Enzo. Like Rose. Like Andie.

Like Ric.

It wasn't particularly curious, considering the children had insisted upon holding some sort of ceremony, with flying paper lanterns and everything, to account for the dead. Their dead. Those they had been able to bury, and the others too. Those that hadn't left behind a body. Those that had been buried in secret, with compelled undertakers, and a false name on their grave. When there even was a name.

That, that was Alaric's case.

So now, Damon was sitting next to a grave with no name at all carved on it. There was only one word: "Friend".

What a show of friendship, indeed, to not even acknowledge the identity of the one that was buried there!What kind of friends were they, all of them, and him included, to write that on the hunter's grave? What friends, indeed?

What lover? That was most like it.

He was the one who refused to see that Alaric was dead. He was the reason why there was only written "Friend" on this grave. Him, and no one else.

After all, they couldn't risk someone seeing the grave and the name "Alaric Saltzman" on it, when the man was supposedly away. They could not say "he is away, but he has a grave". It didn't work like that. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Rebekah had killed Elena, thus killing Alaric. Esther had made Alaric mad, and even more dangerous, so he had had to be put down. Klasus had taken his family problems to Mystic Falls, causing Alaric to be caught in it.

Really, Ric's death was the Mikaelsons' fault.

But this?

This parody of a grave, this "Friend" that meant nothing, this place with no name, this was Damon's fault. He knew it. It was written there, just behind this stupid "Friend" word. It wasn't written in words, it wasn't something that you could see, but it was written there. Those who knew the truth could see it, Damon was sure.

This... thing.

This pannel that said "it's Damon's fault."

Everybody who knew the truth could see it, he was sure of it. It wasn't written in words, it wasn't visible, but it was there, and it screamed "It's Damon's fault! He's the one who made me like that! He is the reason for this parody of a grave! He's the reason Alaric is neither properly dead nor alive. He's the reason Ric can't be dead, even if he is not alive. Damon made me like that!"

It screamed loudly, and still, Damon remained there, sitting on a bench with three bottles of alcohol. One was bourbon, the other vodka, and the third one, he wasn't sure, but it was strong. And every time he took a new gulp of alcohol, the grave screamed louder.

It was difficult to think, with all that noise.

Good.

Damon took another sip of... of what, already? He didn't remember. The cemetery was too dark to see the color of the alcohol, he was seeing double so he couldn't look at the name on the label, and the taste... At this point, there was no taste anymore. The alcohol had no taste anymore.

Or maybe it did.

Yes.

Yes, or no. In a way...

It tasted of fire. And, and of noise. Yes, that was it, it burned his throat, and it made the grave scream.

The vampire reached for yet another bottle, and drank a bit more. He wanted the grave to scream. He wanted it to tell him al that he had done wrong. Oh, it wasn't self-pity. No, not at all. He wanted to know what he had done wrong, not only for the grave to be this ridiculous, but for everything. If he went far enough, maybe the grave could help him know what needed to be undone. If he found out what had gone wrong, he could undo it.

Nevermind that he would have to travel to the past for that. A bottle of alcohol was the best time travel machine in the world.

See? He didn't know yet what and when it had gone wrong, what and when he had done wong, but he was already travelling to the past! He could see Ric just there, frowning at nothing in particular. Oh wait, it was at him. Of course it was at him. He didn't remember what he had done that particular day, nor did he know what particular day he was being remembered about by the grave and the alcohol, but it was surely at him that Alaric was frowning.

He liked Ric when the man was angry. But he liked him too when he was happy. And when he was worried. No, really, he liked all the moods the hunter could get into. There was only one that he didn't like. It was when Alaric was in his I'm-a-monster mood. This one he didn't like. Usually it ended with the teacher saying stupid things about how it would be better if he died during a fight, or if he was the one to be sacrificed for once.

No doubt Damon didn't like this mood.

But, he reflected, It was better than no mood at all. Like when the hunter had gulped down the rin; Or with a dead Ric. Strangely, his vision too was reflecting things, things that shouldn't be here, in his visual field, but that were there nonetheless. Bright lights, and the light of a candle, and...

Right. That was because of the alcohol. It had been long since he had last drank this much, so much that he was starting to having trouble seeing correctly.

Damon gulped down another another glass of... something. Something that was strong. Maybe the vodka. Or... what was the third one, again? He eyed the bottle warily, wondering for a time if per accident he hadn't taken the wrong bottle, the one with the methylated spirits in it, instead of another bottle of normal, drinkable alcohol. But no. It wasn't a plastic bottle, after all.

What was he thinking before these doubts had entered his brain?

Uh... Oh! Something about him being completely responsible for the idiocy of the "Friend" on that grave. Right? And even if it wasn't it, in the end, it was it, right? He was the one at fault for this sham of a grave. He was the one who had refused to acknowledge that Alaric was dead.

It was Damon's fault.

He knew it. The grave had told him so. And the alcohol, too. Let's not forget the alcohol.

He took another sip.

And anyway, what was it with Elena and Stefan and Caroline and Bonnie and Jeremy and, and... all the others? Why had they insisted to do this stupid ceremony with the lanterns and all that? He was very certain Alaric wasn't feeling better for it.

Because Ric was dead, so he certainly didn't care about one paper lantern with his name, no, with "Friend", written on it.

Ah, there it was again. "Friend." The grave screamed again. Louder. Always louder.

He didn't care. He wanted to hear it scream and tell him it was all his fault, he was the one who had made this even more foolish. He wanted to hear it, for it had to be someone's fault, and the vampire had changed since he had met Elena and Alaric, and he wouldn't put the blame on someone else. Not when it was his fault.

And if it wasn't truly his fault, still, he wouldn't put the blame on someone else who had nothing to do with it. If it wasn't truly his fault, he would still believe that it was. If he didn't, then it meant that all that, that sadness in his heart, that terrible pain that was growing and gnawing at his dead soul, it was there by nobody's fault. He couldn't blame anyone. He'd have to accept and live with it.

He didn't want to accept anything.

He didn't want to live with the pain. He wanted the pain to leave.

But the pain wasn't leaving. And since the pain wasn't leaving, Damon needed someone to blame for it. And since he had changed, and wasn't as selfish as before, he would blame it upon himself.

It was easier that way.

And another glass of the nameless alcohol.

Well, perhaps it was the vodka. Or the bourbon. It wasn't necessarily the nameless alcohol. But since he couldn't tell, neither by taste nor by scent, which one it was, the three alcohols were now recognized as nameless. After all, he couldn't put a name on it, so it was nameless.

Why was he continuing drinking?

For a moment, the question passed by his mind. But it did only that: pass by. It didn't stop. It didn't anchor in his brain. It passed by, and, as soon as it had come, it was gone. As if it had never been there. The ghost of a shadow lurking for an instant in a corner of his mind.

And so he drank, and he drank so much, that he was drunk. Truly drunk. Not vampire-drunk. Drunk-drunk. Dead-drunk. Drunk with a hangover for the coming morning. A morning that would surely find him in the cemetery, drunk on the bench, or maybe, on the ground. He didn't care.

Not yet, that is. Once the morning and the hangover would be there, he would care.

But for now, the night was dark, and there was still some alcohol left. So he drank. And drank. And drank. More. And more. And more. And when the first bottle came to be empty, he reached clumsily for the plastic bag behind the bench, where waited a bottle of tequila and another bottle, of rhum that one. He truly intended to get passed-out-drunk this night.

At some point, he had said something to the grave, as if it had been Alaric himself. He had talked for a minute, told the grave how much he missed the man whose name wasn't on it. He had said things. He didn't quite remember what. He didn't want to remember, truthfully. If he remembered, then that would mean that he wasn't as drunk as he thought.

And this night, he had decided that he would be drunk like never before; be it when he was human and alive, or dead and a vampire.

He would be drunk.

He didn't remember his little speech. He was drunk. He had succeeded.

The vampire smiled in triumph, but quickly sobered up. Metaphorically, of course. He was a vampire, but with that level of drunkenness, even his fast-healing body would need some time to get sober once again.

Yet, he sobered up. In a way, that had nothing to do with being actually sober.

He had succeeded in being drunk. Now, he had to keep it that way. To drink, more and more. To drink until he passed out. He had never succeeded at that, as a vampire. Usually, he fell asleep on his own accord, because he was done drinking, and not because he was drunk.

Now was the night when he would see if it was possible, for a vampire, to pass out from drinking too much. See, he was even doing serious stuff as he drank: this, dear madam, was a study pertaining to the very important question of, can a vampire get drunk enough too pass out?

Very important research subject.

So Damon drank on, alone in the night, in a cemetery, with a grave that was shouting at him, screaming all that he had done wrong since the moment he was born. A grave, a ridiculous grave with the word "Friend" with a capitalized "F" carved on it. A grave that was someone's, and yet was not, because there was no name on it.

And the ghost whose name had been rejected, that ghost, yes, that one who had a name, but that should not be called by it, for he wasn't supposed to be a ghost, for he wasn't supposed to be dead, he was only supposed to be away, that ghost watched through the night this vampire who was trying to get drunk, so that he would be the one at fault, so that he'd be unhappy, because it's easier to be unhappy, than to try not to be.

The ghost who had been denied a name watched. At first he was worried. Then he grew to be anxious. After that he started being irritated. Eventually he was exasperated.

The ghost was past sighing, when the vampire passed out, some time around one a.m.

He growled something at the unconscious vampire, even if the vampire couldn't hear him, first, because he was unconscious, second, because he couldn't see or hear ghosts. Then he stood up, and went to search for someone who could see him, and who would retrieve the passed-out vampire from the cemetery. Jeremy would grumble, but he would do it.

The ghost had no name, and so shouldn't be named. After all, one that is away can still come back one day, can't he? The name of the ghost was booked for that one, who would come back one day.


	75. OWA, part 4: Join you on the Other Side

**One world apart, part 4: Join you on the Other Side**

 _"Jeremy."_

The teenager turned around in his bed, thinking something along the lines of "just five more minutes, Ric...". The day had been hellish, with the attacks on Tyler and all that. Apparently the culprit was this guy with the tattoo he had seen earlier at the Mystic Grill...

Jeremy's eyes shot open.

This had been Alaric's voice... but the teacher was dead. And it hadn't been a dream, unless his dream about Bonnie had turned out very strangely at some point to include his dead legal guardian.

So...

The teenager got rid of the blanket that was covering his head, and looked around his bedroom, in search of the ghostly form of Alaric. Sure thing, he found the teacher standing next to the door.

It wasn't the first time he saw the ghost, to say the truth. There had been that time just after the hunter's death, when Alaric, and not the hunter, mind yu, but Ric, had come into the house, and at first, the teenager had thought it was still his other, murderous personality. Then, not too long after that, Jeremy had seen the ghost watching over Damon, and, mostly, sighing in exasperation. They had talked once or twice, and each time Ric had tried to make it easier for him to accept all the deaths that a happened lately. Not an easy task, for sure.

"Ric, you're here! But... Why this late, or early, in fact, in the night?"

As he had said this, Jeremy had looked at his alarm clock. He was sure he wouldn't get to sleep again after that, but at least, he had had a fair amount of rest before the ghost had come to wake him up.

Just looking at Ric's ghost told the teenager the teacher was angry about something. "Something" was most likely raven-haired and blue-eyed. It could have been about the guy who had attacked the ceremony earlier this day, too, but Alaric looked exaperated, not worried. So, most likely Damon. As always.

Jeremy sighed. Of course, he didn't really hate the vampire anymore. That didn't mean they would become buddies anytime soon. True, he even kind of liked him. Damon wasn't a bad guy per se, though he often was a bad guy in acts. He meant well, and did the worst thing possible. Alright, even if Jeremy actually more or less appreciated the vampire, he just wasn't going to trust him. The guy had issues.

Alaric's smile was bent in a very curious shape, and obviously forced. Since he had died, and only Jeremy could see him, the ghost was doing less and less effort to control himself. There were some leftovers from him being a Saltzman, of course. But he was way more open in his body language than before.

" _I'm sorry to wake you up, Jeremy, but Damon's dead drunk in the graveyard. Usually I'd say to leave him there, but it seems there's a maniac supernatural hunter in town, and I'd rather not have the idiot staked in his hangover."_

See, what had he just thought? Jeremy was right, obviously; Damon Salvatore had issues. No one in their right mind would get drunk in the open when someone hell bent on making them disappear from the surface of the Earth was roaming about.

Even if Jeremy could understand why the vampire was doing this, and Alaric Saltzman himself was the main reason for this behavior, the two couldn't help but be exasperated. It wasn't as if Damon was doing this occasionally. He was continuously acting like a fool, these days. Him having a reason to do so didn't mean it was a good idea for all that.

The teenager got up and started to dress.

"I'll go."

Just before he left the room, he turned back to look at the ghost.

"Though if he died, he'd certainly join you on the Other Side, you know."

Alaric's ghost sneered a bit.

" _Yes, he would. Too bad there is no way to see each other when you're here, unless you're a witch. Which I am not."_

Jeremy shrugged.

"I'll see you there, I suppose?"

The ghost disappeared, and the teenager went on his way. Soon enough, he reached the cemetery, only to see a sleeping vampire on the teacher's grave. Ric was standing next to the vampire, utterly refusing to even look at his wretch of a boyfriend, and several empty bottles of alcohol were scattered around the grave.

Jeremy sighed, and tried to wake Damon up.

The vampire groaned, turned around, his face on the grave, this time, and nothing else happened.

Alaric snorted.

" _If you have a stake with you, I advise you to try the guts. It wouldn't kill him, but you can be sure he would get up."_

"And try to decapitate me thinking I'm an enemy? Thanks, but no thanks. I'll just... carry him to the boarding house."

" _You can't carry him by yourself all the way."_

"Fine! I'm calling Stefan."

So he did, and the younger Salvatore came to the graveyard not long after, grumbling something rude about over-grieving brothers. He had been busy enough dealing with Elena's new condition as a vampire and taking care of Alaric's disappearance, lately!

Stefan looked at his brother for half a minute, wondering if it wouldn't be better to just finish him now, rather than let him suffocate in his misery for one or two more decades. The younger vampire eventually snaped out of it, shook his head and rolled his eyes. He was not going to murder Damon because he was heartbroken. It was already something incredible enough, proving his brother still had a heart, after all and he wasn't going to get angy because of that. Definitely not.

Stefan pulled Damon up and onto his back, before asking Jeremy if it wouldn't be better to carry him to Alaric's loft, as the older vampire had all but taken residency there lately.

The teenager was about to say yes, wondering why he hadn't thought of that before, but Ric stopped him.

" _It wouldn't do. There is a mad vampire hunter, ready to endanger normal people in his hunt, in town. It's not a guess to say that he understood there was something 'bloody' suspicious going on yesterday afternoon, at the ceremony, when Damon went to help Elena, and also something 'bloody' vampiric when the idiot just ripped the door of his truck. If he gets Damon's address, that is, mine, there's no telling he won't come for him. It would be wiser for him to stay at the boarding house, with Stefan and Elena."_

Stefan watched, puzzled, as Jeremy stared at nothing in particular. After a time, the teenager looked back at the vampire, and repeated what Alaric had just told him.

"Alright, but can you tell me why you were spacing out?"

Jeremy cleared his throat, ill-at-ease.

"Erm, I was... listening to Ric. It's his idea. He's also the one who told me about your brother being... stoned in the cemetery."

Stefan's upper lip twitched at the mention of the teenager's ability to see ghosts. He hadn't thought that, since Alaric used to be human until just before his death, the teacher would be on the Other Side. But, the teacher hadn't been only turned into an Original before his death; he had also been born as a cursed human. As for a peaceful death...

From what he knew of the Other Side, Stefan believed all the supernatural creatures went there after their death, the interrogation mark being for cursed humans, them being up for discussion about being or not "creatures". He also knew that, after a while, some could find peace and pass on. It was what had happened to Jeremy's previous girlfriend, Anna, and to her mother as well.

But Alaric had died just recently, and his death was anything but a peaceful one. His life, even, had been quite nightmarish, and Stefan didn't even know the details. He just knew that being a Falkenbach wasn't easy on those who tried to still behave as human beings, and not monsters. There was no way he'd have passed on so soon. So, of course, his ghost certainly was still around.

And Jeremy could see ghosts.

They had made a little research, with Bonnie's help and Anna's comments. Apparently, Jeremy could only see the ghosts of those whom he wished to see, and still, if these people didn't wish to speak to him, they could decide to evade his sight. Alaric had no reason to hide from the teenager, and the teenager was bound to think about him from time to time...

"Right... Well, then, I'll take him to the boarding house. Be careful, Jer. There's a mad hunter on the loose in town."

So they parted ways, and while Jeremy headed home, wondering about the fact that he was seemingly the only one able to see said hunter's tattoo, Stefan carried his brother back to his room, trailed by Alaric, who frowned in exasperation at the unconscious older vampire.

Stefan laid Damon on his bed, and made to leave the room.

Just as he was about to close the door behind him, he stopped, and looked back in his brother's room.

Was Ric there, somewhere?

Probably.

Unless the teacher was too angry with Damon's behavior, and so was now ignoring him. Totally plausible. It wouldn't be the first time.

Feeling a bit stupid, Stefan cleared his throat, and spoke loudly to the ghost-who-was-possibly-there-but-he-had-no-proof-of-it.

"Alaric, if you're there..."

Make yourself known. Yeah, right. He was definitely feeling like an idiot.

Sitting on the edge of Damon's bed, Ric arched an eyebrow, guessing from the silence what the vampire was thinking right now. If he had been in Stefan's shoes, though, he would surely have felt a bit silly too. Even considering he was a cursed man, who knew vampires, and had been one for a few hours, and had seen a fair amount of dead people come back from the dead, or at least manifest themselves.

It was the same thing as watching a supernatural film, preferably a B horror movie about vampires, when you knew, and had seen, the actual thing. Great, now he couldn't help but imagine Damon clothed as Dracula... worse, Nosferatu. Hilarious, truly. Dracula, at least, had some style, depending on the adaptation.

"Don't worry too much about Damon. If I have to, I'll lock him in the basement for a few days, away from any kind of drinks that are not blood or water. But anyway, we'll get that hunter, I promise. I won't let him touch anyone else in this town, and I'm sure once the idiot wakes up, he'll think the same."

After that, Stefan left, hoping he hadn't just made a fool of himself by speaking to a ghost that wasn't even there to begin with.

The ghost-that-was-possibly-not-there laughed a bit, and lied down next to Damon.

Alaric didn't close his eyes in all of the following hours, watching the vampire. He was dead, after all. He didn't need to sleep. In fact, he just couldn't sleep. Ric found himself to be a bit jealous of Damon, who was sleeping soundly. It wasn't so bad to be undead, after all. It was in fact way better than being dead, for those who ended up on the Other Side. At least, Damon could sleep to forget about his worries. Or drink. That, he did a lot. A lot more than needed, in fact. To be frank, the teacher would have liked it better if the vampire drank less, and slept more. At least, when he was asleep, Damon was less likely to do something stupid.

Even if Alaric wouldn't put it past him, to manage to do something stupid while asleep. Nothing was to be overlooked, with Damon. Next thing they knew, he'd be sleep-walking.

Ric sighed.

Being dead, unable to interact with the world, and able to speak only with Jeremy, was difficult. Not only he was worrying over what happened to the living, but he also got bored pretty easily. He could pretend using objects, especially glasses of bourbon, by the way, but they were mere illusions he used to pass the time. And when he got bored, his brain had taken the habit to imagine strange things. Such as a damonish version of Nosferatu. Unless it was a nosferatish version of Damon?

He couldn't rely on Jeremy to entertain him. The teenager had other things to do. Though, now that he thought about it, maybe he should use this opportunity to help, or actually force, Jeremy to do his homework...


	76. OWA, part 5: Here, watching and listenin

_after 4x03, though with the whole Damon-is-a-mess-and-I-certainly-don't-plan-to-use-the-sire-bond-bullshit, many things haven't happened exactly as in the show. Just know that Damon was there to trap Connor._

* * *

 _Gaaah... It's hard to write about this... So hard... Hopefully the part when it start to move will come soon enough._

 _By the way, I've started a twitter account where I plan to post various things about my fanfics: update notice, "writing in process" news, this kind of things... I don't know if it'll be useful, but well, I try._

 _https_:_/_/_twitter_._com_/_EKernor_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 5: Here, watching and listening**

 _"So, you led the hunter right to Klaus and Damon?"_

Jeremy shrugged, and punched the air, under Alaric's watchful eye.

"That's about it, yeah. I didn't especially want him to murder half of the people I care about, meaning, my sister, her boyfriend, Caroline, and even Damon. Oh, and Tyler, even if he's a douchebag. And since this Connor didn't seem to be one to make a deal, more of the kind to kill all the vampires until there's none left whatsoever, or until he himself is dead..."

" _You thought it'd be better to finish it with the second option."_

There was no judgment in the ghost's voice. He was only statting a fact, even if he felt a bit sad that the teenager had to chose about something such as to kill or let a person live. It wasn't something a teenager should have to do.

"I don't have anything against vampire hunters. They can be useful. You were dead useful. But you're just dead, now, so... And this one was a radical. Still, it appear I have the potential to be a hunter, somehow, and this town definitely needs someone who will not just overlook what happens. Elena is too busy trying not to jump at anyone throat, Stefan tries too hard to keep the peace, Caroline isn't exactly a hero, and Damon is just completely out of it."

Yeeesss, Damon could hardly be called a hero. And that wasn't the only reason the vampire was out of it, lately. There was no point trusting him to keep Mystic Falls protected.

" _Alright, Jeremy. I'll teach you how to fight efficiently."_

Alaric's ghost walked to the teenager, and put his hand on Jeremy's arm.

" _But, as you already know, we can touch but we can't touch. You see we are in contact, and yet you don't feel anything, correct?"_

Jeremy nodded. He had had time, with Anna, to experiment. There was absolutely no way for a living person to touch a ghost. It didn't mean they could pass through one another either. If it happened, the ghost was simply pushed out of the space where the living person wanted to go, without them feeling anything, which was weird. If the ghost had a strong will, and was particularly angry, they sometimes succeeded in pushing back, and then it was the living person who was pushed out. Those who could do that were usually dead witches.

As for Alaric, he had been pushed out a few times in the first days of his ghostly existence. It had been weird. At some point, he had been literally trapped in a moving crowd in a corridor in the high school, and he had been pushed back... well, back and forth, for three whole minutes. Being a ghost unable to interact with the world was really strange, sometimes. It had felt as if he had no strenght at all, not even enough to keep standing, as he had been pushed right and left, into a wall, against a backpack, away from a teen and back into the crowd. There had even been a time when he had embarassingly ended up with his face in the cleavage of fellow / ex-colleague / math teacher Andrea Lopez. If a ghost had ever blushed in the history of the Other Side, it was him.

" _So, I can't fight with you to train you. All I can do, is giving you tips, and showing you techniques, without actually making you practice them against me, or react to a response to your attacks. At some point, you'll have to ask for someone to help you."_

"I know that!"

" _Good."_

And with that said, Alaric began to instruct Jeremy about his stance, the way he should think about the fights and his opponents, how to keep focused on what was going on. When the teenager asked if this would all be really useful in a fight with a werewolf, or worse, a vampire, the teacher retorted that they had to start with the basics. And anyway, if they got to the point when Jeremy could fight supernatural beings long enough with just speed and strenght, then it would come in handy to know how to break a neck just with his arms. After all, it was so much easier to stake an unconscious vampire than a conscious one...

The sun was about to set when they stopped the training.

Jeremy was sweaty and exhausted, and he let himself fall to the ground with a relieved sigh.

"I can't believe you people actually do that for fun."

The ghost snorted lightly.

" _That's called sports, Jeremy, and if you did a bit more of it on a daily basis, you wouldn't be so exhausted after just that."_

The teenager mock-glared at the teacher. He opened his mouth to say some smartass reply, but shut it right back.

Damon was making his way into the woods, and towards them. Maybe Elena had sent the vampire in a search-my-little-brother-please-I'm-so-worried hunt, so that he'd leave the boarding house a bit. Leaving by the same token the bottles of bourbon.

Now, if there was one thing Alaric had demanded of Jeremy in exchange for his training him, it was this: to never tell Damon that the ghost was there. He didn't want the vampire to hold onto false hope, and given the way things were going for now, it really looked like it was what would happen if the teen told Damon about his presence.

The vampire trailed to them, squinted at the teenager who was lying on the ground, and sat down upon a rock.

"Your sister seemed to think you were gone to get some drugs again. I'll tell her you were only taking a dirt bath. She'll be delighted, no doubt."

A handful of dirt flew in the general direction of Damon, but it fell back way before it reached the vampire.

"I was exercising, if you must know. I run into too many supernaturals creatures by the week for my mental tranquility, and too many of them usually try to murder me at one point or another. I'd rather not make a target that is too easy to take down."

The vampire shrugged, and silence fell back onto the group. Ric was keeping carefully quiet, just in case he said somehing and Jeremy answered without thinking that he shouldn't actually be speaking with no one. At some point, Damon looked back at the teen, who didn't seem to be willing to get up and leave the woods just yet.

"Training, you said?"

"At my level, it's more like exercising, really, but yeah, it's my goal. Why?"

The vampire remained thoughtful for a few seconds, that Alaric used to observe him.

Damon looked... not a mess, because the red eyes, and by that he meant the red eyes that were caused by abuse of alcohol, and the bad breath, had left since quite a long time, with him being a vampire and all that. But he looked bad, in a way, his shoulder slumped and his gaze empty.

Ric sighed. His lover really needed to get himself together. No matter what, the teacher wasn't coming back. He was dead, and it was about time for the vampire to accept it.

But he couldn't speak up without gaining the attention of Jeremy, and so the suspicion of Damon, and he coudn't speak through the teenager, because it would be like giving himself away. No, actually, it would be giving oneself away, no discussion.

And Alaric didn't want to give himself away.

So he couldn't say anything. So he watched. So he listened.

Then, Damon surprised both the teenager and the teacher.

"I could help you train, if you feel like it."

Jeremy's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. He spluttered a bit, and had to sit up so that he could cough properly, and not suffocate himself.

"Why would you do that?"

The vampire arched an eyebrow at him.

"Do you really need to ask?"

Finally, they agreed to come here one evening out of two, so that the teenager would not overexert himself between school, training, and the various other kinds of shit that could happen, and usually did happen, in Mystic Falls. And on top of that, he had to spend the next day with Klaus and Connor of all people, so that he could draw the tattoo on the man's arm since he was seemingly the only one able to see it... Not that Damon knew the hunter still lived.

When they finally left the woods, Jeremy heading for the Gilbert house and Damon for the boarding house, no, sorry, for the wine cellar of the boarding house, Ric tagged along Jeremy for a while.

They needed to talk, and least of all about the guilt the teenager was currently experiencing when he remembered that he had promised Alaric not to say anything about his existence to the vampire.

Continued existence.

Continued ghostly invisible intangible existence.

Whatever.

When they arrived at the Gilbert House, Jeremy sighed, and put down his coat. He started to cook himself dinner, with the TV on. Soon enough, though, he put it out.

" _Don't you feel lonely, sometimes?"_

The teenager didn't answer right away, chopping vegetables into small bits.

As his legal guardian was dead, and his new legal guardian was not trusting herself not to try to drain him of his blood right now, the teenager lived alone in the house. At first, it had been great, no one to order him around or tell him to go to bed after 2 a.m., but it wasn't the same as when parents went away for a week and then came back. He was actually starting to feel a bit lonely, from time to time. He was in fact happy to see that Alaric might stick around a bit more often from now on.

For a time, he had lived off pizzas, but a stern look from the ghost had ended it easily two days prior. Sure, the teacher was already busy enough watching over Damon, but strangely, it didn't seem to be enough. He had to look over Jeremy, too...

Meaning, a twenty minutes lecture about why it was not healthy to eat only pizza. Even for breakfast. Not that Jeremy didn't agree with that last part, but he had just been too lazy to search for something else, so he usually finished the pizza from the previous evening in the morning.

So here he was now, making a salad for dinner. He was putting extra effort because of the teacher's presence, of course.

"I do. I just hope it won't take years for Elena to come to terms with the fact that she's a vampire, now. I'm still a minor, after all. I need someone to look after me."

Ric arched an eyebrow, and his eyes looked down at the dish that the teenager had almost finished to prepare.

" _More like you'd rather not have to make dinner yourself, isn't it?"_

Jeremy smirked a bit, and waved his knife in the air, as if to fend off an attacker. The knife eventually came into contact with the ghost, who had to take a step back because of it.

" _I hope you don't do that with living beings around."_

"Depends. Does Damon count as a living being?"

The teacher squinted his eyes.

" _I'll let you the benefit of doubt. Now, as we're talking about Damon..."_

Jeremy put down his knife, and went to the fridge, searching for what was left of the steak from yesterday. He proceeded to heat it again.

" _... You know you can't feel guilty about not telling him, don't you?"_

The teenager took his salad and went to the table, planning on eating it meanwhile.

"Of course I know that. Because I know doesn't mean I agree."

The ghost stared at the youth for a few minutes.

" _You're feeling even more guilty because he proposed to help you, right?"_

"Possible."

Alaric sighed. It wasn't that he wanted Jeremy to keep quiet. Hell, he wanted Damon to know he was here, if only to stop the vampire from drinking so much. But he also knew that knowing wasn't likely to stop his boyfriend, and that it was even more likely to make him more desperate. Maybe for a time, the vampire would get better, but soon enough...

Soon enough, the fact that Ric was here, watching and listening, but that he wouldn't be able to see and hear him on his part, this fact would eat him up. And as Damon would know that Ric was here, it was more than likely that the vampire would never be able to let go. Meaning, that Alaric wouldn't be able to either. And for a vampire and a ghost, "never" was a long time of negation.

Jeremy went to take his steak.

"You don't have to explain, Ric. I know how grieving works. It's just that I never managed to follow the advices, myself, not without using drugs and alcohol, which are definitely not part of the advices for grieving. I won't tell Damon... unless you tell me to, that is."


	77. OWA, part 6: Budding feeling

_set in 4x04 ( for the general timeline, since things are really changing, now )_  
 _Interesting stuff will hapen soon, I swear._  
 _Not that this isn't interesting._  
 _It is?_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 6: Budding feeling**

Damon helped Elena to stack some boxes in the car trunk, wondering aloud what exactly the doppelganger and his brother had planned to do with those, when they were supposed to be going to Whitmore College for research.

Research, he emphasized.

"Shut it, Damon. Go back to moping somewhere else, somewhere where you won't be suggesting things about what my boyfriend and I do in our spare time!"

The older vampire frowned in mock hurt.

"And here I was helping you out before you two left! But I see you'd rather see me miserable, Elena. That's so mean of you. If you aren't careful, you'll end up like Katherine. Wait, see! You already got the fangs."

The younger vampire was about to retort something scathing, but Stefan got to it first and smacked his brother on the head.

"Don't listen to him, he has drunk almost all our alcohol in the last week."

Stefan and Damon glared at each other for a good ten seconds.

Then, turning to his girlfriend, the younger brother smiled softly. He hadn't wanted for her to become a vampire, to experience the thirst and the overwhelming emotions, but here they were. Since things weren't going to change just like that, Stefan'd better accept it. At least, he wouldn't be alone once Elena would die of old age, since she wasn't going to die of old age at all.

The two of them were going to Whitmore College to investigate about the Five. Apparently Connor had been one special kind of hunter, and really, Damon couldn't care less. The only special kind of hunter he was interested in was dead, a true psycho at times, and haunting him, even if he didn't know about that last part. The older vampire had passed his turn to investigate this special breed of hunters. He had to take care of and teach how to fight properly to mini-special-hunter Jeremy, he had argued, even though he in fact simply couldn't bother.

Besides, it gave Stefan and Elena some time away from all the others. They needed it, with the latest changes in their lives, including blood-sucking and a lot of deaths.

So, Damon would stay at Mystic Falls, keep an eye on little Van Helsing, just in case the teenager suddenly felt the urge to murder all the vampires he would come across, a situation that would be most disagreable considering how some of Jeremy's friends were vampires. Stefan and Elena would go at Whitmore, try to learn one or two things from this Atticus Shane professor about the Five, since it was their best lead, if the not the only one. Klaus was the other lead, but it just so happened that Klaus was difficult to deal with. So Shane and his lessons really was their best lead.

The two needed some time alone, and Damon had understood that. Not that it mattered, for he wouldn't have wanted to go anyway.

Stefan gave his brother a stern look, that Damon only shrugged away. Both knew the carefree attitude was only a facade, but it was already something, for the older Salvatore to even bother faking hapiness.

It was something, even if it wasn't much.

"We'll be leaving in ten minutes. I just have to call Liz and tell her not to count on Damon if anything happens while we're away. She'd better ask Caroline, or even Tyler, to deal with it."

Exasperated, Damon almost shoved his brother in the car.

"Alright, we get it, I'm not reliable. No need to make such a fuss about it."

It was Elena who stopped their shenanigans, her hand grabbing Damon's. The youngest vampire of the group tried to say something, but her eyes met his, and something flickered in their shared gaze. It lasted more than necessary, and Stefan could very well see the tenderness that took over his brother's features for a time, before it was replaced by something else. Something that looked much like deep hurt.

The younger brother felt his heart clench as he remembered how they had first fought over the girl, before Damon had realized there was love to be found elsewhere than in a doppelganger of Katherine Pierce.

That is, once his brother had stopped pining after Katherine like crazy.

Now, Alaric was gone, and Stefan couldn't help but wonder...

After a time, Damon's face twisted in an odd way, and he jerked away.

"Right, lovebirds. Don't stay up too late, don't kill anyone, or if you do, hide the body, and don't get high on blood. I know how colleges are."

Elena retorted dryly.

"I'm sure you do."

Damon forced a laugh, but it was pretty obvious it was just that: forced. Stefan couldn't tell why it was so, and it unnerved him. He didn't think his brother would get over Ric so quickly, but that was just the danger; when Damon grieved, he went completely overboard, be it with drinking, violence, or women. This time he had indulged only to the first vice, but that only made Stefan more worried.

Who knew if Damon wouldn't explode once they would all be convinced he had reined it in?

For now, Damon was obsessing over Alaric's death. What if he got enough of it, and that to try and appease the hurt, he went and redirected his obsession onto something else? Onto someone else?

There had been a time when Damon had gone after Elena.

Stefan tried to get his worries to shut up, but it wasn't working very well.

The older vampire tried to walk away, after a quick "bye", but his brother grabbed his sleeve.

"Wait a minute, Damon. Would you talk to me for a minute before we leave?"

Damon shot a glance to Elena, who was already seated in the car, before answering.

"Your gorgeous girlfriend is waiting for you, Stefan. If it was for me that she was waiting, I wouldn't be one to stall too much."

Of course, this wasn't helping Stefan's worries at all. In fact, it even turned them into something more: jealousy was starting to make itself known to the younger Salvatore.

Stefan dragged his older brother behind him, excusing himself to Elena for the wait. He hoped he was wrong, both for Damon and for himself, but he had to say it. He had to ask.

And he had to eventually be told that he was getting it all wrong.

He didn't want to consider the possibility that it could not be the eventual outcome.

He closed the door of the Gilbert house behind them, and finally let go of his brother.

Damon made a step away from Stefan, frowning at him in incomprehension.

"What was that?!"

Stefan glared at his brother, his hand on the handle of the door to keep him from just walking out and evade the subject.

"Leave Elena alone, Damon! She has enough problems without you harassing her."

Damon's eyes widened, before his facial expression darkened. He eventually let out dry laugh.

It wasn't false that he had felt something come back when he had crossed gazes with Elena. He wasn't going to deny it. After all, he had truly felt attracted to her, physically and mentally, at some point. His love for Alaric had killed off the budding feeling before it had grown into more, but it hadn't made him insensible.

He was so messed up right now, he knew exactly what Stefan was thinking about.

And the worst was that he couldn't tell his little brother that he had gotten it wrong, for it would be a lie, and lies weren't what was needed right now.

"I'm harassing her, really? You have nothing to fear, brother: all I see when I look at her, even if I'm glad she is alive, is that Alaric is dead because of her, because of Rebekah, because of Esther, because of Klaus, because of Esther again, because of the Petrova doppelgangers."

It was true, after all. Without the Petrova line, Esther wouldn't have been able to create the Originals, hence, no Klaus Mikaelson murdering people left and right, hence, no Esther trying to undo her creations and using Elena to create an even worse Original that of course had to be Ric, hence, no Rebekah killing Elena, thus, no history teacher dying because his life had been linked to the doppelganger's.

Obviously, Damon was aware that the girl had never asked to be who and what she was. He knew it wasn't her fault. He didn't hold what had happened against her.

Still, it didn't change the fact that Ric was dead.

And each time he saw the face of the doppelganger, he couldn't not remember that it had been her blood that had made the hunter an Original, that it had been her death that had killed him.

"True, I have feelings for her that are coming back, or more accurately, that are bubbling out without my consent. But you don't have to worry, Stefan. Truly. Each time it tries to come out, it is crushed to death by the reminder of what I don't have anymore because of what Esther did with her blood."

Damon gave a small smile to his brother, who looked relieved, in a way, even if he was definitely feeling bad about what had just transpired.

"Even if I wanted to get her, brother, it would only hurt me more than it would feel good. I don't intend to. I'm already hurting enough like that."

Stefan let out a deep sigh, and his eyes flickered to his brother's, before looking elsewhere once again. He couldn't really face Damon just now.

"I'm sorry, Damon. Really sorry. I shouldn't have... Not when you're grieving..."

"Don't worry about it. I've done more than my share of being awful to you, all those years, and all that for a bitch who didn't even care about me. You have the right to be angry with me from time to time."

Damon trailed off a bit, at the end of that sentence, his eyes wandering in the air, as if searching for something that wasn't here, a memory, a dream, maybe. A story in which he hadn't made a bastard of himself for more than a century.

But eventually, the older vampire locked eyes with his little brother, and this time, Stefan didn't avert his gaze.

"You have that right, not only because of all that I've put you through, but also because I haven't shown myself as someone you can trust. I don't even trust myself, sometimes, and you are right to be wary of me. All this years of evil deeds can't just be forgotten with something like one year, more or less, of redemption. I understand that. I don't blame you for thinking that way."

After what Damon frowned slightly.

"Though I expect you to start trusting me again before the next century, or I might lose patience."

Stefan snorted, opening the door again.

"I'll consider it if you stop flirting with my girlfriend."

"Damn, then you'll never trust me, I'm afraid. I flirt with all that breathe... and what doesn't, too."

The younger vampire rolled his eyes, and walked away.

Soon, Damon was watching the car leave, with the vampiric couple aboard. He hoped it would go well for them, considering Elena still had issues with controlling her thirst.

This trip to Whitmore College was in fact a test, as much as it was a quest for more information: they needed to know if Elena could control herself when amongst many people, and none of whom that she knew. Caroline had tutored the new vampire, after the incident at the memorial, and Stefan knew his stuff with not being good at control, always going from diet to slaughter, from slaughter to diet. Apparently it was getting better, after the latest Ripper episode.

Slowly, Damon made his way back to the boarding house, but with no special goal to achieve by doing that. Lately, he was living this way, like the undead vampire he was. With no goal or dream to achieve.

He let himself fall onto the couch, an arm above his eyes, keeping the light away.

"What am I doing, anyway? Falling back for Elena? Certainly not. Nothing could be worse."

He wasn't talking to anyone, but who cared? Certainly not him.

"What am I doing?"

In the armchair on the other side of the coffee table, a ghost was sitting, slightly irritated.

" _That's what I'd want to know, Damon."_

Silence was all that remained in the library of the boarding house, and that for several dozens of minutes. The ghost kept silent, alone, as always, on the Other Side. The vampire could have fallen asleep, even if nothing was less sure. He wasn't moving one inch, in any case.

Eventually the silence was broken by the ringing of Damon's cellphone.

The vampire took it out. He frowned when he saw the number. Maybe he'd better pick up, after all.

"Ariane. I hope you're well."

" _Well on my way to Mystic Falls, if anything."_


	78. OWA, part 7: Her eyes were steel

_set in 4x05, the events changing quite a lot here_

* * *

 _Alright, so... I'm experimenting here, and we'll see what comes out of it._

 _"COMMENT, PLEASE" in a whining voice_

 _Apart from that, this chapter is one where I change many things about the story. First of all, I speak of the Augustine one season early. Doesn't mean we won't see them in part 4 ( that's still doesn't have a name, obviously ). And yes, Enzo is dead-dead. He didn't fit in the story, and considering Ariane... Well, you'll see._  
 _And this is yet a chapter where I introduce something that doesn't exist in the show. Just consider it's because I've erased the bullshit that was the sire-bond ( love sire-bond, I mean. Tyler's exists ), if you want an excuse._

 _Also, if you want to see what Ariane looks like, go here:_ _http_:_/_/_alviola_._deviantart_._com_/_art_/_Coups-de-crayons-Eternity-for-your-pleasure-589820543_

 _without the "_"_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 7: Her eyes were steel**

Alaric squinted at Damon. Damon, who was, unsurprisingly, drinking. Getting stoned. Smashed. Intoxicated. Or at least, who was trying to become all the above. Ric snorted. Of course, the vampire would deal with things this way.

After having answered the phone, said two words to the caller, paled, and finally hung up, Damon had rushed to the Mystic Grill, and asked for a drink. And then another one. And yet another one.

And now, one day later, he was back in the Grill, and doing the exact same thing.

No one had questioned it, not even Jeremy, who was working as the bartender, because that's what Damon did, lately. Drink, to the blink of oblivion. It was a wonder there was still a drop alcohol in town. Surely the Grill couldn't order enough to keep up with the speed the vmpire was gulping bourbon, and any other potent liquid, down.

Damon was staring at his glass of bourbon, currently, and not drinking it. Between two gulps, the ghost had noticed his boyfriend would stop for a minute, mumble something incomprehensible about "bloody murder / reaper / Ariane / Augustine". This was not his usual _modus operandi_ to get smashed, and so Alaric just knew there was something wrong with that phone call.

Well. Wronger than usual. Meaning, very very very wrong.

Now, considering they had a hunter on the loose, a few hybrids, and some Originals in town, Alaric could hardly guess how it could get worse. Not that it couldn't. Just, he didn't see how it could.

It was all the more worrying that Klaus was, in fact, not in town. Rebekah was, but not Klaus. That made only one Original around, and while they usually were a pain in the ass, they were quite useful to get rid of other insanely strong monsters, to learn about things forgotten for centuries, and other things like that. Meaning, they usually were part of the problem, but when they weren't, they were a good way to get rid of the problem. Especially since they didn't like when someone encroached on their territory. And since Damon had not muttered anything about "bloody Originals" so far, it seemed they weren't part of the problem.

But Klaus was not here for now, and Rebekah was unaccounted for, so they'd have to deal with whatever bad news this Ariane was coming with, alone.

So Ric worried, unable, once again, to do anything, or even to question Damon about whatever was making him try and get drunk.

After a fourth glass of bourbon, that had also been preceded, not only by three other glasses of bourbon, but two of tequila, a voice shook Damon out of his alcohol-induced torpor.

The vampire froze on his bar stool, unwilling to look at the woman who had just sat down next to him. After all, maybe it was only someone who sounded like her... and who had decided to come to the Mystic Grill just after they had agreed to meet there. Ariane had said she'd arrive around this hour, this day... She hadn't said she would be there just now. It could very well be someone else, who sounded like her.

Yeah, right. It wasn't as if there were a lot of people with a roman accent roaming around these days. And it wasn't as if the woman had just called him by his name, before she had asked Jeremy for a drink.

Eventually, Damon gathered some courage, and turned to look at Ariane.

For it was her. No doubt about it. It wasn't as if they had shared a cell for a few years or anything.

"Ariane, what a joy to see you again! I hope you don't resent me too much for what happened the last time we met?"

Alaric's ghost turned in his seat to take a good look at the woman.

She appeared to be in her twenties, slender and well proportionned. She was wearing dark greenish, greyish draped pants, with leather black boots on top of them, and a shoulderless top of the same colour. Her hands weren't visible, in black long gloves. Strange, but not so much that people would start staring openly.

The woman's face was squarish, but not too much. Her mouth was thin, her nose straight, her eyebrows arched as if in anger. Her long black hair curled up a bit at the ends, and went down to the small of her back, with two locks falling on her chest, and bangs before her right eye. She looked somehow italian, the ghost mused, before he finally looked at her eyes.

Just under the corners, she had what looked like two triangular, dark turquoise tattoos. But it wasn't what disturbed him the most.

What was the most disturbing with the woman's large black eyes, was that Ric had the feeling they could see he was here. He backed away, stunned, and when he looked at her again, she wasn't paying him any attention. The ghost sighed, reasoning that he must be paranoid. There was no way she could see him. Even Jeremy, who could see ghosts, could only see those who had mattered to him. Alaric was no one to this Ariane, so there was no way she could see him.

He was becoming paranoid.

Damon cringed when the woman gave him a scathing look.

"If I resent you for using me as a bait for those scientists? No, certainly not!"

"Come on, I knew you wouldn't die of it."

"Me, no. But Enzo died because of your decision. Now, what was it about an immortal who wanted your hide, that you went so far as to call for my help?"

The vampire winced, when he remembered about two things: first, that he had in fact called for help when Alaric had been disturbingly bent on exterminating all vampires from the face of the Earth; second, how he had escaped from the secret society Augustine, leaving Ariane behind, and Enzo, another vampire, to die. They both knew he wouldn't have made it if he had helped them... but maybe he shouldn't have used Ariane as a bait.

Damon cleared his throat, awkward.

"Oh, that... Well, finally, we got it all sorted out, in the end... Apparently, he was indestructible, but not immortal. His life had been bound to a human's one, and Rebekah killed her... So we got... rid... of him."

The vampire's voice went down, and down, and Ariane didn't miss the fact. The woman could only guess, but it was pretty obvious that Damon had lost someone dear to him, that day. Several someones, perhaps.

That would explain why this one was here, with them.

"Oh, Rebekah is..."

"Don't bother. I'm older than the Originals, remember? I've done my best not to run into them, for a fight between us wouldn't have come to an end quickly, but I've also kept an eye on them."

Damon knew that Ariane was older than Klaus and his siblings. How much older, he wasn't sure, but several centuries, at least. She wasn't a vampire, either, and she would be extremely difficult to kill, if what he had seen when they had been experimented upon by the Augustine was any kind of hint. A fight against any Original would have been an unending bloodshed... Though, technically speaking, it would have only been the Original bleeding, because Ariane couldn't bleed.

"So, in the end, I've come for nothing."

The woman sighed, and rose from her seat, apparently heading for the ladies room.

Damon hesitated an instant, but eventually followed her. She could be useful, after all, in getting rid of Connor. The hunter of the Five certainly didn't think he would have to fight against somehing like her, and it was a given he would have no idea how to even do that. People like Ariane were rare. From what she had told the vampire, they were only twelve. And only one of them had ever died.

So Damon followed Ariane, intent on talking to her, maybe to get her forgiveness. He followed her, to the ladies room. This had Ric's ghost arching an eyebrow at his boyfriend, but of course, said boyfriend couldn't see him doing that.

While Damon and Ariane were talking, April and Matt entered the Mystic Grill, and went to talk with Jeremy. Alaric watched the teenagers speak of various things, including Rebekah Mikaelson.

But things got ugly pretty fast, when one hunter named Connor entered the Grill, followed Jeremy, and threatened him with a knife, effectively taking the three teenagers hostages under the very eyes of an angered ghost that could, obviously, do nothing to help.

It was a good thing for the hunter that Alaric wasn't able to do anything because he was a ghost. If Ric hadn't been a ghost, member of the Five or not, Connor would have had to deal with an ireful Falkenbach. And the facts were that, even if Connor had never fought against one of these cursed humans, Falkenbachs and hunters of the Five had already fought on three occasions through History. Only one fight had been won by a member of the Five; they were programmed to be perfect vampire hunters. The Falkenbachs were programmed to be perfect killers, period.

Still, Falkenbach or not, Alaric was a ghost, and he just couldn't do anything. He couldn't even warn anyone, considering Jeremy was one of the hostages.

The mad hunter said things, that Alaric barely registered, too busy with self-anger. The ghost was also wondering what the two idiots were doing in the washroom, that they still hadn't gotten out, and helped the kids. With Damon's vampire hearing, they should know, by now, that Connor the freaking psycho had come and was keeping his knife at Jeremy's throat...

But maybe that was why they weren't getting out.

Damon was a vampire, and Connor was doing this to get at all the vampires in Mystic Falls. If he came out and did only one thing wrong, Connor wouldn't shy away from taking it out on Jeremy.

But eventually, they'd have to act.

In fact, it was Connor himself who pulled the trigger for that one. The hunter had just sent a text saying he held the children's fate in his hands to Tyler, Stefan... and Damon.

The ringing of Damon's phone could be heard from the ladies room. Jeremy and Matt shared a surprised look, while April's eyes went wide open, and Alaric facepalmed.

Connor's face twisted into one of vicious satisfaction.

"So, there is one here already... Wonder why he hasn't come to your help yet, Jeremy?"

The teen rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting. He still had a knife resting against his neck, after all. And it just happened that he liked his neck to be just where it was. Between his head and his torso.

Sure, he had his Gilbert ring, but he wasn't completely certain it would work if he was killed by a human being, even if with supernatural abilities like a hunter of the Five. Cursed humans were kind of a grey area, when it came to that. Jeremy personally didn't want to test what the rules were for them.

Connor spoke louder, this time.

"Come out, vampire! Or one of the children will lose their life... and after that, I'll come for you!"

Alaric glared daggers at the hunter. He had never threatened an innocent human being, and he was a cursed man! What was Connor's excuse?

They all heard the door to the ladies room open, but when they looked there, it wasn't Damon that stood in the door-frame. Though the vampire was just behind.

No, it was Ariane, who looked at the hunter with contempt.

"Get away from the vampire, woman! I won't hurt you, if you get out of the way."

Matt snorted at that, clearly doubting the man's words.

Ariane walked to the member of the Five, keeping herself between Damon and Connor. When she joined him next to the bar counter, she stopped less than one metter away from him.

"Let the teenager go, and use me as a shield instead."

Her voice was cool, as if she was used to this kind of situation, but her eyes were steel. The hunter felt he'd better not argue with her offer. Still, he did. This woman knew nothing of the danger of vampires, and if she did, she clearly didn't understand what they really were. What if he had to kill a few innocents? In the end, he would save more than he would condemn.

"Certainly not. But since you won't move... I warned you!"

The hunter violently released Jeremy, his knife grazing lightly the teenager's neck as he did so. He then went for Ariane's throat, while he grabbed for another weapon at his hip in the same time with his other hand. He intended to get rid of her, since she wouldn't let him do his duty, and to immediately aim for the vampire who was cowardly hiding behind her.

But his knife, when it touched the woman's skin, stopped dead, its speed disappearing. Connor saw the skin being cut open, but it never got further than that. There wasn't even any blood.

He saw one more thing, heard one more thing, before he felt no more; it was a dark blade going for his own neck, and it was the voice of Ariane as death claimed him.

"Let's do this again: hello there, I'm very pleased to meet you, and before you ask, I'm older than anyone you've ever met, and I'm a grim reaper."


	79. OWA, part 8: Death seemed not to know of

_You wanted to know more about Ariane? Here it is!_

* * *

 _Alright, so, my experiment was successful: with a simple "'COMMENT, PLEASE' in a whining voice" - twice as many comments/reviews between here and AO3, considering I usually have 2 or three comments on news chapters. This time, there were 5. Deduce what you must, but I won't forget._

 _Maybe I should kill off a character as a revenge. Hum..._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 8: Death seemed not to know of us**

Ariane took her scythe out of the hunter's body, and massaged her temples. With some luck, no one had called the police yet, and so she wouldn't have to answer any question about the fact that she had an enormous black scythe with her. And that she had just killed someone with it. Really, it'd be great.

She listened for a minute, not really willing to look at those who had already witnessed the scythe. Damon wasn't really a problem, considering he had always known she wasn't a normal person, even if she had never told him what she was exactly. The children, on the other hand... And there was also that other one... Not that he'd be able to snitch to anyone, but still.

As she heard no police siren, Ariane allowed herself a sigh, and then she made her scythe disappear into a black cloud that she absorbed. Now, there was no murder weapon left, she mused warily.

It was at this precise moment that the only teenage girl in the building let out a terrified shriek.

The blond young man next to her rushed to try and calm her down, but it was Damon who finally got to the girl and compulsed her fears and her knowledge of the events out of her. The girl then fell unsconcious, and the vampire sighed in exasperation.

Damon handed the girl to Jeremy, who caught her in his arms, a bit bemused with the situation, his eyes flickering ever so discreetly to Alaric, who only shrugged. Now, there was no danger left, and anyway, the teacher couldn't do anything. The teenager'd better just play along.

"Alright, Little Gilbert. You and Wonder Boy get the spring girl back to her house, explain that she fainted, and make sure she doesn't ask disturbing things again. Meanwhile, I'll take care of the Bible salesman's body."

The vampire looked aroung, and glared at the floor, where a little pool of blood had already started to spread.

"...And I'll take care of cleaning up too. Great. My afternoon just became perfect."

Ric snorted, and motionned for Jeremy to do just what _"Pissy pants Damon"_ had told him to. Ariane frowned when she saw the boy react without apparent reason, and she squinted at him as the three teenagers made their way out of the Mystic Grill.

As the three and a half peop... beings were finally alone, Damon started to do his job. Even if one could argue that Connor Jordan being sadly deceased and Alaric Saltzman being nothing more than a ghost, both of them could be counted as only one half of a person, then making the count of three and a half wrong. It should be three... considering that their "presence" could even be counted.

No matter.

Ariane helped the vampire to clean up the blood, and they quickly went and disposed of the incriminating body.

It was as Damon was driving back to the boarding house that he finally got the courage to ask.

"A grim reaper, so?"

Ariane gave him the look, the one that told she really wasn't impressed by his pretending to be merely curious.

"Yes."

"And...?"

"For Jupiter's sake, Damon, just ask."

The vampire said nothing for a minute, intent on appearing as if he was focusing on his driving, which could have worked if he hadn't been, as usual, driving without a care in the world the minute before. Ariane wasn't fooled.

"Damon."

"Right. Erm, so, I know you can't bleed like all of us because your blood is downright solid, even if I have no idea how you move with it being the case, I know that said blood is black, and I known you don't heal particularly fast, though still faster than a human being. I don't think you are particularly fast or strong, but you can summon some kind of death scythe. And you said you are a grim reaper."

The said grim reaper nodded, looking slightly bored.

"So, what does it entail exactly, to be a grim reaper?"

"I was born not long after the Christ was crucified."

The car lurched violently, but Damon managed to go past his surprise and get back onto the right side of the road. A bit nonplussed, the vampire still did what he did the best: speak out of turn, and out of civility.

"Old hag."

The car lurched again, startling a pair of squirrels in the nearest tree. When everything was normal again, Damon's shirt was suspiciously red with blood... but it could have been tomato juice, squinting hard.

"I'll ask of you to keep your mouth shut, Damon, unless you want to have a car accident. Besides, I do believe vampires can burn to death, whereas I cannot. If the car explose, you're in it for an unpleasant moment... and then I'll see you on the Other Side, obviously."

Damon grunted something, then realized what his friend had just said.

He just knew there was no way Ariane would get killed just like that.

At the Augustine, the scientists had known how to get rid of vampires, they had just been searching for a better way to do it, more efficiently, maybe a way that would work on its own, without them even needing to do anything. The Augustine was a secret society against vampires, after all. That was why Damon and Enzo had been there, used as test samples.

But Ariane had also been there, and the two vampires had just known she wasn't like them. Even if they hadn't seen her being brought back tot the cell, with cuts all over her body, but not a drop of blood anywhere, they would have known. It wasn't difficult to know for a vampire, really: Ariane had no heartbeat. As if her blood had frozen in her veins, in her arteries, in her very heart.

She hadn't been strong enough to escape, despite that, because she wasn't stronger or faster than a human. Yes, she was strong and fast for a human, but not so out of human limits. Now that he thought about it, Ariane was probably the same as a Falkenbach on that point.

The scientists had restrained her, and Damon could now guess it had to do with her scythe. If she could summon it, but was unable to use it, it was plainly useless.

Still, no matter what those scientists of the Augustine did to Ariane, the woman never died. They had tried everything. Her blood wouldn't flow. Even when they tried to take out some of her flesh, her whole flesh even, it did not work, because each time the knife would meet a vein, no matter the size, even capillaries, the knife would be stopped, as if it had encountered something that would not break, no matter what. Once, there had been the disgusting noise of a chainsaw, and screams.

But Ariane had come back to the cell next to Enzo's. With not one inch of her skin not ripped into shreads, but alive nonetheless. Her blood seemed to be harder than diamond.

Ariane had been there because she wasn't human. She had been there because the scientists were afraid of what she was. Because they didn't know how to kill her.

And they had never found the ghost of a way.

The point was, Ariane had said she'd see him on the Other Side. A place where she was unlikely to go anytime soon, even if there surely was one way or two to kill her and her kind, just as it was possible to get rid of the Originals. Incredible difficult, but possible.

"Are you telling me you can see the dead?!"

Ariane gave the vampire a stern look.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Damon. And yes, I can see the dead. Not all of them, of course, because those who have really passed on, humans and lucky supernatural beings in other words, they are just gone. But all those who have remained out of Death's realm, yet who are not amongst the living, I can see them. I'm a freaking grim reaper."

Damon opened his mouth to ask something, but the look he got in return made him shut up.

"Now, if you'd just let me speak."

The vampire nodded, still wide-eyed... looking at the road, of course.

"I lived in Roma. The roman witches had heard about some Greeks who had managed to achieve immortality and tremendous powers, and, out of jealousy as well as out of fear, they tried to make their own immortals. Twelve of us, men and women, were chosen to be these immortals. We hadn't been told what would happen to us, and we were all terrified when the ritual started. In the end, it was successful, but we all agreed that we'd keep the witches from ever doing that to anyone again. We protected the city until they were all dead, destroying each of their attempts. Then we disappeared, and went to live our immortal lives out of the roman empire."

Well, it explained the accent, then.

"The ritual didn't make us stronger or faster, though it was performed when we were all in our prime of youth, and after an intensive training, so that we'd be eternally at our best. It did not give us any strange power. But it made us undying, it gave us our scythes, and it made our blood solid enough to withstand anything. Our veins are our armor, and as long as it exist, the rest of our body will get back to its original existence, even if it takes hours."

"How can you just summon these scythes, anyway?"

Ariane laughed darkly, but answered anyway.

"It was the whole point of the ritual, actually. The witches had made twelves small scythes in a magical metal that I know not to exist naturally. At some point, they melted each scythe, and it gave them exactly three liters of metal for each of us."

Ariane's face was dark as she went on, but of course, Damon saw none of this. He was too busy staring diligently at the road, as he had been ordered to. So, obviously, there was no way he could have seen the murderous glint in his friend's eyes. It was definitely not because of that glint that he felt a disturbing shiver crawl up his spine.

Not at all.

Keep your eyes on the road, Damon.

"That's when they restrained us. They cut our wrists, to let the blood out on the right one, and to pour the burning metal into our veins on the left one. They were chanting something I couldn't understand, be it because it was in a foreign language, or because of the screams that were escaping from our mouths, or simply because of the pain."

Keep. Your. Damn. Eyes. On. The. Freaking. Road. Damon!

"Eventually it stopped. The cuts healed by themselves. What was left of our blood and the metal had merged."

Damon allowed himself to breath at that point, because Ariane's voice had gone down a scale, and it sounded less terrible now.

"You mean your scythe is in fact made of your blood?"

Ariane snorted, and confirmed.

"We were called the grim reapers after a few years. Our blades would cut through anything, and would not be cut by anything. Death seemed not to know of us. And the more important was that we could 'see' people pass on, and their mind disappear in an ocean of peace."

Damon parked the car, and they got out of the vehicle, heading for the living room of the boarding house. The vampire felt he owed her a good bottle of alcohol for having shared her story. Even turning into a vampire couldn't compare, as to the pain, he guessed.

But Ariane hadn't completely finished her story, and Damon soon noticed he had forgotten something in his bedroom that he wanted to show her. They made their way upstairs as the reaper ended what she had to say.

"But soon, we noticed the supernatural beings didn't disappear like normal people. A few of them would, after a time, but they always got stuck in a dead dimension before that. It was fairly new, this dimension; we understood that because there weren't many people in it yet, but it was becoming more crowded with time. That dead dimension is something artificial, something that wasn't meant to be. It's not a real afterlife, but an anomaly. And so we can see and interact with it, because it's about death, but it isn't truly death. It's the Other Side."

Damon opened the door to his bedroom, curious as to the exact extent of the grim reapers' interactions with the Other Side. Not that he had an ulterior motive or anything.

Ariane, not to think about her dreadful change, nearly two thousands years ago, asked her vampire of a friend what he had been up to since the Augustine, that he had had to deal with one of the Five and with a psychopathic immortal in les than one month.

But her question never ended, as she stared at Damon's bed. After a time, she stated, rather blankly:

"There's a vampire pouting on your bed. A dead vampire. And by that I don't mean undead."


	80. OWA, part 9: To scowl and snarl

**One world apart, part 9: To scowl and snarl**

Alaric stared at the grim reaper with wide eyes, unable to speak. It certainly was the first time such a thing happened to him since his death. Usually, he just didn't bother talking, because people who were not Jeremy couldn't hear him.

But this time, he literally was gobsmacked.

Damon's grim reaper friend, Ariane, could see him.

After all, there wasn't another vampire than himself on Damon's bed right now... Not that he was aware of, if anything. Maybe it was an invisible vampire, and maybe she was simply able to see invisible vampires, but Ric doubted it. Even if he could somehow be counted as an invisible vampire, considering he had died a vampire, and people couldn't see him.

Invisible vampire or vampire ghost, it did not matter. What mattered was that Alaric was pretty sure he was the only vampire pouting... sulking would have been better, but those were Ariane's words, not his... on Damon's bed at the moment.

By the way, he wasn't pouting. Nor sulking, for the matter. He hadn't been worried about his lover disappearing with a corpse and a grim reaper who seemed to resent him for something Damon had done years ago. Not at all.

Of course, he could have followed them, but well. What could his ghostly self do if the big bad grim reaper decided to get her revenge on the vampire? It wasn't as if he was able to interact with anything. And while Alaric couldn't do anything to her, he wasn't so sure about it being true both ways. There was something definitely nasty about the black scythe she had used to kill Connor. Considering Ariane was a freaking grim reaper, the ghost wouldn't bet she couldn't do anything about annoying ghosts that got in her way.

Or at least, that's what he had been thinking when he had watched the car with the vampire, the corpse and the grim reaper in it being driven away. And when he had come to the conclusion that maybe he should have gone with them... Well, the gost had had no idea as to where they were.

So Ric had gone to wait for Damon at the boarding house, hoping against hope that his boyfriend would still be in one piece and very much undead the next time they'd see each other. Alaric was more than aware of Damon's habit of making ennemies out of every people he met, and apparently he had already irked the grim reaper in the past, enough that he had been worried over her coming to Mystic Falls. The ghost also knew the vampire well enough, and if there was one thing that could be said about Damon, it was that he always and without fail managed to say just what wasn't needed to be said at the worst moment.

With such thoughts, it wasn't a surprise that Ric was scowling, and not pouting or sulking, thank you very much, on Damon's bed, waiting for his idiot lover to come back and not see him as usual. While the vampire couldn't see the dead history teacher, the dead history teacher really wanted to make sure the vampire hadn't indulged in any kind of bad and usual behavior. Knowing Damon...

Anyway, it wasn't a surprise, and Alaric would gladly admit that he had been snarling at the door of the room, lying on his stomach, and squinting with a death glare at whoever would pass the door first, when said door opened and let in Damon... and Ariane.

Who could apparently see him.

Because if she couldn't see him, then she wouldn't have seen a "pouting" dead-dead vampire on Damon's bed.

So the logical answer was that she could see him.

A few seconds only had passed since the terrible statement had gone out of Ariane's mouth, and Damon was staring at his bed, helf-expecting Stefan to just appear there, brooding. Of course, it never happened, so the vampire eventually turned to look at his friend with a confused look on his face.

"When you say there's a ghost pouting on my bed..."

Alaric's ghost scowled once more. He was not pouting.

And his brain apparently had yet to reboot, or else he'd have tried to stop what was inevitably going to happen.

Even if Ariane might not have complied, he'd have tried to make her shut up about his continued ghostly presence. One got to try to accomplish anything, and Ric absolutely wanted to accomplish keeping his existence a secret from his favorite vampire. He had no idea as to how Damon would take it, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

But right now, besides the simple reaction of scowling when accused of being pouty, Alaric just couldn't come to the realization of what was happening. It was so unlikely...

Ariane looked at the ghost on her friend's bed, still a bit surprised with the fact that the vampire from the Mystic Grill had actually come here, in Damon's home, in Damon's room, on Damon's bed, to scowl and snarl. On the ground floor, with an imaginary glass of bourbon, she'd have understood. But on Damon's bed?

What was the relationship between the two vampires, exactly?

"I mean that the ghost who was sitting besides you at the bar is lying on his stomach on your bed, and scowling angrily at me as he does so."

Damon blinked, his eyes going to and fro between his friend and the bed where his boyfriend was supposed to be sulking right now, even if the vampire just couldn't see anything.

"You said he was there too, at the Grill?"

Ariane didn't turn away from the ghost, not even to answer Damon's inquiry. There was something fishy about all this, but she simply couldn't see what.

And there was something wrong with that ghost. Hell, the grim reaper could sense he had been a vampire, she could even tell he had been an Original, however-it-was-freaking-impossible, but it wasn't what was strange. The facts didn't add up, considering she knew what the Originals looked like, and none were supposed to look like this man, but there was no questioning it; this guy had been an Original Vampire. But there was something else, and she simply had no idea what it was supposed to mean, especially when it felt so... familiar.

There was something wrong with this situation, and something wrong with the very core of that ghost.

In other words, the whole thing was suspicious like hell.

"Yes, he was there all along."

"What does he look like?"

Finally catching up, Ric cursed, and in a second, he was standing on his feet.

" _Don't tell."_

Ariane's upper lip twitched at the demand. She was alright with requests, but she hated demands.

Then again, the ghost seemed downright panicked, so she'd let this one pass... Maybe.

" _If he knows I'm still around, Damon will never let go. And I want him to move on, even if I obviously can't."_

Ariane's eyebrows shot up as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. She took an instant to look at the definitely male vampire from head to toes, and while he was obviously very good-looking, she had believed Damon liked his boys...well, girls, really. Finally she turned to look at Damon, and for an instant she wondered if he wasn't standing a bit more femininely than before...

Nah.

Just a trick of her imagination.

Even if she was quite sure about who the woman was... had been in this relationship. Damn, she wished she could just tease Damon with that, it'd be enough fun for at least half a century, she reckoned.

But no, Ariane could understand why this ghost didn't want her to tell the truth to his lover. She had made that mistake, once. Eventually, the other one had ended her life because she couldn't take it, that her lover had been around... but not reachable.

"Dark haired, grey eyes, tallish, male."

And there it was. A lie. But it was for Damon's sake, and Ariane had long since learned that sometimes, a lie was better than the truth. Not always, mind you, but sometimes. Especially when one of the lovers was ready to suffer seeing the other move on if needed.

At first, Damon seemed confused, obviously oblivious to her lie. Why would there be the ghost of a male vampire looking like that haunting his bed?

But before the confusion could make itself at home on his face, the vampire frowned. There was something wrong with all that. He had been so sure... The ghost had been in the Mystic Grill, with him, and now he had followed him to the boarding house? Yeah, right!

"You're lying. He's a tall, male vampire, with blue eyes and dark blond hair."

His face basically said that no other lies were allowed. Ariane rolled her eyes, and shrugged.

"You got me. Still, I didn't know you swang that way, back then, Damon."

The vampire flushed a bright red, but didn't look away.

"Not your business, how I like to be fucked, Ariane. Just tell me it's Alaric and that he asked you to say it wasn't."

The grim reaper hadn't thought her friend to snap at her, but even in her surprise it only made her snicker a bit more. She was almost two thousand years old, in the name of Jupiter! She had seen more than enough homosexual couples not to judge.

"Calm down, Edward Cullen. Your Bella isn't as I imagined her, especially considering how you told me her name was Katherine, but anyway. If you sparkle both way, good for you."

Not sure if he ought to be astonished that Ariane even knew about sparkling vampires, Damon only looked away, muttering a bit.

"I don't swing that way. Ric's special, that's all there is to it."

Ariane arched an eyebrow at her friend, and smirked.

Then her eyes flickered back to the ghost, asking for confirmation: though Damon's description was accurate, she couldn't just assume his name was Alaric. There was, and had been, more than one person on Earth who matched the description, after all. Now, if he had been missing an eye or something...

So she was going to ask the ghost who he was.

The ghost... who wasn't there anymore.

Ariane blinked. Damon grew impatient.

"So?"

The grim reaper blinked again, trying to focus on the fact that one ghost had left the room, and a hallucination had just appeared in the corner of her eye.

She cleared her throat, and turn to look at the bloody hunter of the Five who stood next to her, playing with the knife he had tried to use against her earlier.

"Well, Damon, I'm afraid your sweetheart ran away before I could ask. Now, if you don't mind, I have to deal with a Hunter's curse..."

Ariane had finished her sentence in a murmur, and before Damon could ask what exactly she meant by that, she had walked out of the bedroom. When the vampire went to look after her, he found the boarding house completely empty, except for himself.

And maybe wayward, lying ghosts, he thought bitterly, even if he had no idea if Ric's ghost was actually still in the house or not. For all he could see, Damon was alone, and in the end, that was what mattered.

Ariana stopped a few miles away from the boarding house, and finally paid attention to the multiple hallucinations that had fallen onto her since the first, a few minutes before.

They were hundreds of them, and truly, it wasn't suprising. She had killed a lot in her very long life, between enemies, rogue vampires, murderers, wild werewolves, rapists and other kinds of scum who thought they could do whatever they wanted. And while the Hunter's curse was supposed to work on vampires, because the hunters of the Five couldn't afford to ever be felled by their preys, it also worked on grim reapers. The witch who had created them had made sure it did, after having been told of the chaos brought upon a small town of what would latter be known as Germany.

All this was Ascagne's fault, obviously...

The grim reaper gritted her teeth, and took out her scythe.

She knew the hallucinations wouldn't stop before a new hunter of the Five replaced the one she had killed. The witch hadn't been very thorough in her work, though: grim reapers could hardly kill themselves, and Ascagne's slaughter had began because of madness...

Well, she'd just have to hold on. Besides, the hallucinations died like anyone else... even if they came back after a time.


	81. OWA, part 10: Nothing out of the ordinar

_Something like before 4x06, but events change with everything about Damon, Jeremy and Elena, since it's Ariane who killed Connor, and I still needed a reason for Jeremy to accept becoming one of the Five._  
 _As for Damon, he went back into danger-mode._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 10: Nothing out of the ordinary in Mystic Falls**

Jeremy was frowning as he entered the house. He couldn't get the tattoo that had appeared on his arm out of his head. It just kept lurking around, in a corner of his mind, as if bringing with it an ill omen.

Which was, to be frank, certainly the case, considering it was meant to be seen only by potential and actual hunters of the Five, and sported only by the laters. Jeremy had already known he was a potential hunter, from what Connor had told him. And now, one of the five hunters was dead, namely, the very same Connor Jordan. Meaning, a new hunter was to appear. And go figure, the teenager, being a potential hunter, was apparently the one who would fill the place.

As if he could do that.

His sister was a vampire. His sister's boyfriend was a vampire. The brother of his sister's boyfriend was a vampire. One of his sister's best friend was a vampire. His kind-of-friend was a hybrid, between werewolf and vampire.

...Had he forgotten someone else that he desperately didn't want to kill, and that his new status probably meant he had to kill?

He didn't think so. And that was already enough reasons for him not to want to be a hunter of the Five. More than enough reasons. Even if it had only been about Elena...

Jeremy locked the front door, and turned around, planning to grab something to eat in the kitchen. There was probably some pizza left from the last time Alaric's ghost hadn't been stalking him to make sure he ate healthy.

The teenager did not make it to the kitchen.

In fact, he didn't make it anywhere.

Ric was leaning against the wall, a mere few feet away from Jeremy.

The potential / future / current / waiting-for-approval hunter started.

"You scared me. Don't come in unannounced like that, please."

The ghost didn't react to the teenager's poor attempt at a joke. In fact, he didn't react at all, keeping on observing Jeremy with that strange look in his eyes, that had truly frightened the teenager, from time to time. As if there was only calculation on his mind.

After what felt like an eternity, during which Jeremy didn't dare to move, Alaric finally looked him in the eyes, rather than to simply look at him.

" _I'm here because you thought of me no so long ago, Jeremy. You should know that. That's why I'm here; I thought it better to wait for you to return at the house, rather than appear somewhere else where people I don't know could secretly see me. And while I could have ignored your unconscious call, it also got me out of trouble with an obsessive vampire boyfriend and a nosy grim reaper. I thank you for that, by the way."_

Jeremy stared dumbly at the ghost of his previous legal guardian, stuck on the mention of a "grim reaper", and by the fact that Ric had just implied someone else than him could see the ghost. But before he could succeed in asking anything about either of those points, Ric moved out of the corridor, and towards the living room. The teenager followed, and sat down after seeing the ghost do just that.

Ric looked at him quizzically, frowning a bit.

" _Is something the matter, Jeremy?"_

The teenager half-choked at the question, and the ghost mused that yes, something was the matter.

As always in Mystic Falls, he should say. When it wasn't something about witches and vampires, it was about hybrids and ghosts. And when it was neither, it could still be grim reapers, werewolves, or cursed people. There was always something to be the matter. Maybe there was a signboard at the entrance of the city, with written "we welcome all supernatural troubles" on it. He'd have to check, just to be sure.

Oh, and there was also the fact that Jeremy had just been taken hostage by a mad supernatural vampire hunter earlier in the day. Nothing out of the ordinary in Mystic Falls.

Finally Jeremy managed to look Alaric in the eyes. He cleared his throat, and gestured to the arm where he could clearly see the Hunter's Mark, though he guessed Ric couldn't.

"Apparently Connor's death triggered my becoming one of the Five."

Alaric blinked, but his face showed more resignation with the fact that anyway, their lives were crap, than surprise. There was a small silence, during which the ghost wondered what exactly they had done to deserve these hells that were their lives, and Jeremy mused on the fact that people his age didn't usually go around beheading hybrids, vampires and whatnots.

" _Any special urge to gruesomely murder vampires?"_

"No. Well, for all we know, not yet. Except Damon, but that's to be expected. I don't know how he manages it, but he just grates on your nerves even after you've become somewhat friendly with him. It's as if his very existence was meant to upset people."

Ric rolled his eyes. He knew the feeling.

Just then, Jeremy's phone rang. The two shared a worried look, wondering what else exactly could go wrong after all that had happened lately.

Because, let's be honest. It could be a classmate calling to borrow the teenager's notes of the last math lesson. It really could. Even if asking Jeremy of all people for such a thing probably meant all the other students in his class had gone missing over the night. Possibly all the students in his year, in fact. Jeremy Gilbert wasn't known to take school really seriously. Pretty much the opposite, in fact. Not that he didn't have reasons for at least half of his non-attendance, but anyway.

So, this phone call could be from a worried student who needed help with math, even if Jeremy wasn't exactly the person to go to for help in such a case.

It could be.

But knowing their luck, it wasn't likely.

" _Who is it?"_

Better get prepared, Alaric mused.

Even if he wouldn't be able to do anything to help... except giving advices, perhaps.

Jeremy looked at his phone before taking the call, his lips forming a silent "Elena" as he did so.

Ah. One more hint that it wasn't something good. Not that Elena never called for good things. Just that she was the one to whom the worst things happened.

Well, at least it wasn't Damon calling, Ric thought drily.

Jeremy didn't even get the time to say anything, not even a greeting to his sister whom he hadn't seen much lately, as she was trying to control herself better with Stefan's help at the boarding house. Apparently she wasn't the best at controlling her thirst, and it might take a while.

" _Jeremy, come to the river asap! Damon taunted one of Klaus' hybrids for I-don't-know-and-I-don't-want-to-know-what-reason, and they are fighting. I got shot with a vervein dart, and I can't contact anyone else! Please, hurry!"_

The teenager said nothing, flabbergasted.

" _Jeremy!"_

"Right. I'm coming. I'll be there shortly. Try not to die in the meantime!"

And he hung up.

Jeremy and Alaric shared an aggravated look, before the former hunter took things into his hands.

" _Take the stakes in the umbrella holder, and there is an axe under my bed. I don't think there is a crossbow anywhere in the house, you'll have to do without. Take the car, and meet me there. I'll take a look, and tell you the situation once you get there."_

The teen nodded, already on his way to get the axe.

The ghost disappeared from the Gilbert house, and appeared where he believed he'd find two vampires and an hybrid, two of whom were probably fighting to death. It was the public spot students always came to when they wanted to throw a party and take a dive in the river, not the one on the Lockwoods' estate.

Alaric immediately saw Elena groggily leaning against a fallen trunk, a dozen of meters away from his position. The young vampire was trying not to blink too much, searching for two blurry forms under the water. She had managed to get rid of the vervain dart that the hybrid had used on her when she had tried to intervene, but it had been a strong dose, and she still couldn't stand up. Getting her phone had been difficult enough...

Ric sighed, glad, for once, that Klaus wanted to keep her alive for some reason. He had no doubt as to why the girl had only been verveined; it had to be on Klaus' order.

Then the ghost shifted his attention to the blurry forms fighting underwater.

Ric wasn't sure how exactly, but Damon and the hybrid had ended up in the river, and were still trying to murder each other even so. From where he was, he could see the dark form of the hybrid possibly throttling another form with dark hair and pale skin, that was probably Damon.

Unless Damon had become a black and bald hybrid before he had decided to go and annoy a vampire who looked just like his previous self.

Alaric should have known that, even if it was Elena calling, Damon might have been part of the problem. It wasn't as if his lover tended to act rashly when things didn't go his way. Damon was an example of self-control, as everyone in Mystic Falls knew.

People who knew otherwise were usually the vampire's friends, or dead.

Like Alaric, who was both, and even a bit more.

Forced to watch as the water around the two fighting supernatural beings turned worryingly scarlet, the ghost clenched his teeth with so much strenght he might have found it painful if he had been alive and with a body.

Damon had been too quiet, after his death. He had been too well-behaved. And Ric had assumed the vampire was making progress with grieving!

How could he have been so blind?

If this, this mockery of a fight that he was watching, had not been triggered by Damon learning Alaric had been around all that time, but still refused to let him know, if this wasn't Damon's usual brash reaction to the world, then Ric wasn't a Saltzman. Learning that the ghost was there had triggered something, maybe anger, maybe despair, Ric didn't know, in Damon, and now, there they were. Damon, doing something randomly stupid, and risking people's lives as he did so.

What was it, now?

The vampire wanted to die, maybe, and be with his lover?

Or was it only the selfish, bratty Damon Salvatore reacting to the fact that the world was unfair?

As the two were still fighting underwater, Ric heard the sound of a car's brakes. He disappeared from the riverbank, and appeared again on the side of the road. Jeremy was getting out of the car, axe already in hand.

The teenager saw the ghost, and walked to him, worry on his face.

"I did as quickly as I could."

" _Don't worry, Elena's safe. Kind of. Somehow Damon and the hybrid are fighting in the river, and that may have contributed to the fact that they still haven't murdered each other completely."_

The teen's eyebrows shot up, but he asked nothing. It wasn't as if Alaric knew why the two fighters had ended up in the water. Instead of losing more time chichatting, Jeremy ran into the path, and towards the riverbank, a few meters below.

The teenager first stopped to look at his sister, who was now able to look up... more or less, as her chin still did its best to fall back on her torso, without her consent. The two shared a look, and then Jeremy turned back to the river, searching for Damon and his opponent.

There was more blood in the water than only a minute before, Ric noticed anxiously as he joined the teenager on the riverbank. With the water and the blood, he just couldn't see which of the two fighters was injured.

Even if Damon had started all this by behaving like an idiot, the ghost still hoped he wasn't the one.

Jeremy hesitated an instant, before jumping in the river, axe still in hand. Walking against the water wasn't easy, but he eventually reached the two others. Noticing that it wasn't Damon that was above the hybrid, but the other way around, he raised the axe high in the air...

...Before making it fall fast on the neck of the hybrid, whose eyes had been quite busy bleeding since Damon had shoved his thumbs in them.

The amount of blood the river carried doubled instantly, and the headless body fell on a stunned vampire. If Damon hadn't already been out of air a long time ago, a great bubble of it would have escaped his mouth as he gasped under the unexpected weight.

As for the head of the hybrid, it went with the flow of the river.


	82. OWA, part 11: Nexus ring

_The end of this chapter will surely please some people..._  
 _Just saying._

* * *

 **One wold apart, part 11: Nexus ring**

Damon was being dragged back to the boarding house.

Dragged.

By little Jeremy Gilbert, no less.

By a Jeremy Gilbert who, if the vampire knew anything about body language, was currently doing his best not to stake him without trial. Instead, the teenager was dragging him with unusual strength to his home.

Dragging, because Damon's feet refused to move on their own and lead him back to the boarding house. Or, more accurately, because Damon refused to move his feet so that he'd walk to the boarding house. In other words, that is, in little Gilbert's words, because Damon was being "an annoying blockhead of a stubborn bastard".

Of course, Damon would not concede that he was sulking because one ghost refused to speak to him, even if through an interposed Ariane. He would not concede that after he had been left alone, once again, with the news that Alaric was still there, just, the prick didn't want to speak to him, he had decided to take a walk and piss off the first person he'd meet on his way, nevermind that said person happened to be an hybrid, and that he knew him to be one. He would not concede that, when Elena had walked upon the growing fight, and tried to put an end to it before it became dangerous, he had made a point of not listening to her. He would not concede that they both had nearly died because of his sour mood.

So now, he was being dragged back to his home by the little brother of the girl he had almost gotten killed with his idiocy. And even if Damon would not concede that his actions had been totally unnecessary, there was a part of him which couldn't really deny it. That was the reason, surely, why he wasn't putting up much of a fight as he was being dragged back to the boarding house, even if he certainly wasn't helping Jeremy in his task either.

The teenager tossed the vampire in his car, his features unreadable, but his grip strong.

"Be nice, Damon, and keep quiet. I just activated the Hunter's Mark, and it has the great effect of making me want to off you on the spot, just because I know you are a vampire. With the stunt you just pulled, and with the danger it caused for Elena, I have half a mind to simply let the instinct control me. So you'd better keep quiet."

The vampire glared at the teen, but said nothing. Even if he had taunted that hybrid with something akin to a hope that he'd get killed in the process, and that he wouldn't have to deal with knowing that Ric didn't want to talk to him, he had realized during the fight that dying wouldn't do. In all his self-pity, he had failed to take into account that, just like Alaric, he'd be stuck on the Other Side for at least a few years, as long as he wouldn't be at peace.

Which would not be an improvement from being a vampire at all, considering that even if Ric changed his mind about talking to him, once on the Other Side, there would really be no mean to speak... unless they had a grim reaper or someone like Jer somewhere up their sleeves, of course.

Speaking of which...

Damon gave an inconspicuous stank eye to the teenager, who was gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it. If Alaric had been around for more than two minutes a day, Jeremy ought to have known, and the kid hadn't said anything, even after all the time Damon had spent training him. Ungrateful git.

What the vampire didn't know, was that it wasn't Jeremy's life that depended on how strongly he held his hands on the steering wheel. Or at least, not any more than for anyone else who could be driving, and definitely shouldn't let go of the wheel, lest they died in a terrible accident.

It was Damon's life that depended on the teenager's grip, for as long as Jeremy managed not to release his grasp, it meant he managed not to lunge at the vampire with the stake that was hidden in his sleeve.

" _Just drop him at the boarding house, Jeremy. Then you can go somewhere where there are no vampires, and where you won't be tempted to kill you friends. I'll take care of Damon's... attitude."_

The teen didn't turn to look at the ghost sitting on the back seat, nor did he respond. He did not know what Ric was planning to do to get his boyfriend to stop acting like a dangerous idiot, and couldn't see how the ghost thought he would be able to do anything, but right now his mind was too polluted with the urges of the Five. He had almost gone after Elena when he had wanted to make sure she was alright, for God's sake!

Jeremy had barely stopped the car before the alley of the boarding house that he opened the door on Damon's side.

"Get out."

The hunter of the Five made a point not to look at the vampire as he got out, and so he missed the dark look Damon sent him, but it was for the best. Jeremy wasn't sure how his newly awoken powers would take any more temptation from a vampire.

As soon as Damon closed the door of the car, refraining with difficulty from snapping at Jeremy, the teenager drove out. The vampire stayed there, glaring at the car, as it went further and further away, for a good minute. As a result, he failed to register the presence next to him, until the person it belonged to made themselves known by clearing their throat.

Damon spun on his heels, but his reaction stopped there.

Ariane was glaring at him, and she really didn't seem to be in the mood.

Great. Now he wasn't the only one. The problem being that Ariane was harldy someone he wanted to upset, now that he had come to the conclusion that he didn't want to die.

"Apparently you need counselling, brat."

"Err..."

"Don't try to make it sound like it wasn't your fault. A ghost told me everything I needed to know, and I've known you for long enough that I have no doubts as to how the situation ended up as it was, with you fighting a hybrid in a river."

For a moment Damon could only blink, really feeling as if he was being told off by the dad his father had never been.

Then it sank in.

"Ric told you?"

The grim reaper declined to answer, and indicated the boarding house with a flick of the wrist. Now Damon was feeling as if there was a spanking awaiting him as soon as they'd get out of sight.

Still, he made his way inside.

It wasn't as if he could simply ignore a grim reaper's order.

Ariane closed the door behind them, and her eye searched for the ghost she knew to have followed Damon all the way from the river, except for the half minute he had spent informing her of what had transpired. She had a good enough idea as to what exactly he hoped she would do about Damon's behavior, that is, talk to him, and maybe tell him it wasn't a good idea for the vampire to continue pinning after a dead lover.

She'd have done just that, really, if she hadn't seen the look in her friend's eyes.

There was no talking with Damon Salvatore on some subjects, and apparently, this one was one of those.

Ariane sighed, as she let herself fall into an armchair.

Surprised, Damon sat on the sofa where the ghost was already seated. The grim reaper smiled slightly at the fact, because even if Damon had not known his boyfriend to be just there, he had still sat next to him.

Looking at the ghost, Ariane finally spoke.

"Did the idiot manage to deal with his own shit?"

The said idiot looked like he wanted to protest at being called just that, but the ghost next to him ignored his lover's indignation.

" _Jeremy, a potential hunter of the Five, got rid of the hybrid for him. The idiot's lucky he wasn't bitten in the fight, but I guess fighting underwater prevented that from happening, if it did any good. We now have one of the Five amongst our friends, which is definitely not great at all, and it seems Elena will thus come to live here indefinitely, since Jeremy's her brother, and she's a newly turned vampire. Really not a good combination."_

Alaric glanced at the vampire next to him, annoyance clearly visible on his face.

Clearly visible to Ariane, that is, since he was a ghost, and only her could see him.

" _Still, the idiot managed to do one thing right: he thought to call his brother to take care of his shocked girlfriend before being dragged here by our very new and personal hunter of the Five."_

Ariane smirked the second time the ghost called Damon an idiot. The vampire was staring suspiciously at the space next to him, obviously wishing dearly that he could hear what was being said that made the grim reaper smirk...or simply that he could actually be sure he was staring at the right place. Which wasn't the case, in fact. It wasn't easy, really, for Ariane not to laugh as Damon stared suspiciously at his boyfriend's right shoulder.

She schooled her features, just in case something else made her lose her calm.

Then she looked back at her utterly deplorable vampire of a friend.

Damon's back instinctively straightened.

"Damon, you realize that what you did didn't put only yourself in danger, but other people as well?"

Ariane was feeling a bit silly lecturing a murderous vampire like that, but well. Maybe Damon actually needed someone to do it for him once in a while, so that it'd get inside his thick head.

The vampire had to fight the urge to sarcastically drawl his answer, way too aware of the glare he'd get from the grim reaper if he did it, and not at all aware that Alaric's ghost was already doing just that.

"I suppose that fighting with someone cannot be without two individuals at least being in danger."

"Of course. But what about the ones you put in danger by ignoring their plea for you to stop, and forcing them to try and help?"

"I never asked for Elena's help."

Ric rolled his eyes, frustrated that he couldn't berate Damon himself.

" _As if you'd ask for anyone's help! But you knew she'd try to stop it. And asking for help or not, without Jeremy, you could very well be dead now. And as if you putting the two of them in danger wasn't enough, now you have made the boy trigger his Hunter's Mark. Jeremy has become a threat to most of those he cares for because of you, Damon!"_

Ariane kindly relayed the ghost's message, but the vampire only shrugged noncommittally. If Damon hadn't been avoinding her gaze, she'd have thought he really didn't care.

But her friend had changed, since the Augustine. It was obvious to Ariane, who had seen him caring about his brother and that Katherine vampiress, but not about many other people. She had even heard him swear revenge upon that guy from his family who had literally sold him to the Augustine. At the time, Damon had not cared about many, and certainly not about people who were potential enemies, as was this Jeremy boy.

The vampire had changed; he even happened to care for humans in general, though not so much that he'd sacrifice himself for them if it came to that. Still, from what the grim reaper had seen, it was a huge improvement of his personality.

Ariane looked in silence at the two lovers who sat before her, one glaring at the other who had no idea of the first one's action, and she eventuelly came to a decision.

"Be aware that I wouldn't do that for just anyone, brat."

Damon frowned, surprised by her words, but his words were stopped from leaving his throat as the grim reaper produced a black ring with no stone, but with a free space that seemed made for one.

" _What is it?"_

"Damon, I need your blood. And this is a nexus ring. With both your bloods in it, and some of my reaper's blood too, it will allow the two linked person to see each other, even through death, as long as they are present."

Damon bit the tip of his finger almost eagerly, but Ric seemed a bit reluctant. Ariane could see why, especially after the vampire's reaction at the news, but because of that very reaction, she knew this was the best thing to do, even if it was bad.

"Alaric, please. My scythe can cut you, even if you are dead, and even if the idiot should learn to live without you, I don't want him to be the cause of more deaths for the sole reason he can't cope."

The ghost sighed, knowing it to be true.

Ariane took out her scythe.

And three drops of blood fell onto the ring, magically creating a blood red stone in the vacant space.


	83. OWA, part 12: Hi, love

**One world apart, part 12: "Hi, love."**

Ariane brought the nexus ring to her mouth and exhaled a soft breath onto it. The center of the red stone turned black, but not its borders.

The grim reaper observed the ring for a few seconds, a satisfied look on her face, then she handed it to Damon.

"You'll see him as soon as you'll wear it. Now, if you excuse me..."

And she made her way to the door, visibly not keen on spying onto the two lovers' reunion.

Damon stared for a moment at the ring in his hand, dumbfounded, but the sound of the front door being opened startled him out of his daze. The vampire sought Ariane with his eyes, but only managed to get a glimpse of her retreating back.

"Thanks!"

He had blurted out the word without really thinking, but as he realized what he had just said, Damon felt that no other words could have been more appropriate.

Alone once again in the boarding house, but not for long he hoped, Damon tentatively passed the nexus ring. He kept his eyes closed as he did so, half-afraid that Ariane had just made a fool out of him, or that it hadn't worked, and, in the end, he wouldn't see Ric when he'd open his eyes.

The ghost watched as the vampire stayed there, ring on a finger of his right hand, but unable to open his eyes and just verify whether or not he could now see him.

After a moment, though, Alaric got fed up with the wait. He walked to the vampire, and stopped just behind him, glancing at the ring above Damon's shoulder.

" _Come on, Damon, open your bloody eyes. There's not point in stalling..."_

Ariane had not said that they could hear each other, though she had specified that they would be able to see each other thanks to the nexus ring. Maybe that's why Ric hadn't expected Damon to react to his voice. Or maybe it was only because he had spent so much time not being heard, except by Jeremy, that he hadn't realized.

Damon's eyes shot open, and the vampire turned on his heels to face the source of that voice which he knew so well, but hadn't been able to hear for so long. The two lovers found themselves staring into the other's wide-open eyes, their faces only a few inches apart.

Damon's ice blue eyes couldn't look away from Ric's gentle blue ones, as if he couldn't be sure of what he was seeing.

Not really surprising when he remembered the many dreams he had had where he'd see him again.

But there, at least, he could be sure this was real. In none of his dreams Damon could make out Ric's face clearly. It was always a bit blurry, or when it wasn't, the vampire had a feeling it wasn't quite right, that this line shouldn't be here, but there, that the jaw was a bit too smooth, the nose not straight enough. Same things with the colors. It wasn't exactly the right blue, the skin tone was never as it should be...

He knew, in these dreams, that it wasn't Alaric, because it looked like him, without trully being him. And he feared that he just couldn't remember exactly how Ric was supposed to be.

The ghost took a step back, uncertainty visible on his face.

" _Hi, Damon."_

The vampire croaked a laugh, taking back the step Alaric had put between them.

"Hi, love."

But Ric stepped back once again, as if aware of something that had escaped Damon's notice, something that would possibly kill the incredible joy he was feeling right now.

The vampire didn't like it, and stepped forward once more, the look on his face clearly a challenge for the ghost to step back once again, for him to keep his distance even when wasn't what either of them wanted.

" _Damon, stop it."_

"Why would I!?"

His tone was aggressive, filled with all the frustration from the preceding weeks of loneliness. He had yearned to hear this voice, to see this face, to touch this person. And now that he had been granted his first two wishes, he'd have to back down for the third one? Never!

Damon didn't care that Alaric was dead. The vampire too was technically dead. He didn't care that no one but him, and Ariane and Jeremy, true, but they didn't count, could see the ghost. His relationship was for him only, and not to be seen by others. He didn't care that Ric wasn't really there, living on the same plane as him. He was there, and it was good enough.

So what if it wasn't healthy, being in love with a ghost? Damon had never lived a healthy life. Murdering people, holding a century old grudge towards his brother and pinning after Katherine for all these years had been far from healthy.

At least Alaric made him a better person, unlike Katherine.

But the sad look in Ric's eyes quickly quenched his anger.

A knot formed in the vampire's stomach. He didn't know what was the matter, but he could clearly see that the ghost wasn't rejecting him out of choice. There was a problem, and he had the feeling he would find out at one point or another. Ric was trying to postpone the discovery, but...

But it wouldn't change the facts.

" _Do you really want to know why?"_

No, he didn't. But facts and wishes never worked well together, or at least not for him.

"Go on. I'll know soon enough, anyway, won't I? Better to get rid of my hopes."

Alaric never ceased to smile, even if his smile was sad, as his hand moved up to the vampire's face. Something sorrowful flickered in the ghost's eyes, and the tips of his fingers touched Damon's face delicately. The vampire's body suddenly felt heavy, as if an anvil had been hidden in each of his feet all this time, and he had failed to notice until now. Ric's hand slithered to his chin, and then fell back to the ghost's side.

Then the smile died.

Damon reached for Alaric's face, as if for confirmation, but he already knew.

How could he have forgotten?

" _I am still dead, Damon."_

No matter how the vampire tried to feel something, as his fingers touched Ric's cheek, there was nothing. It was as if he was caressing thin air. Ric was there, but he wasn't here. He had no materiality. He had no body. Damon couldn't feel a thing, no skin, no body heat, not even some kind of wrongness or of coldness at touching a ghost.

" _I am still a ghost."_

Alaric wasn't here, even if it looked like he was.

Damon tried to think positively. He should have guessed that even Ariane couldn't make his life an eternal sunrise. She was a grim reaper, not an angel or a god. This nexus ring was enough of a gift already. At least, now he could see and speak with Ric. It was better than before.

So the vampire hid his heartache, and pulled a mischievous grin on his features. Immediately, Alaric squinted at him, suspicious.

"Alright! No need to dwell on what can't be changed. I..."

Damon stopped talking as he heard the sound of the front door being opened. Stefan's and Elena's voices could be heard, and the vampire's grin turned from mischievous to calculating.

Before he could say anything else, though, Ric sent him a pointed look.

" _I believe you have to apologize for inconsiderate behavior."_

"Do I?"

Damon's innocent face having grown more than ineffective over the time they had known each other, Alaric didn't even bother to glare, only continuing with the pointed look. The vampire sighed, shrugged, rolled his eyes, and made up a sorry face before turning to look at the two who had entered the room. Still, he muttered one last thing towards his personal ghost.

"Of course I do. Who do you think I am? Wait, don't answer that."

Then, looking Elena in the eyes, he apologized profusely, before asking if, maybe, he could use the Gilbert family lake house, just the time for him to sort his feelings, with the added benefit that he wouldn't be there bothering his brother and her. Elena hesitated a bit, obviously searching for the catch. Damon refrained from rolling his eyes once more; the girl knew him too well, but this time, if he had hidden motives, it wasn't anything bad. Eventually she relented, hoping nothing too terrible would come out of it.

Damon grinned so much as he left the boarding house that it didn't reassure neither Elena nor Stefan, and that Alaric stared suspiciously at him before disappearing, already heading for the lake house... and dreading what was to come. With Damon, one was never too cautious.

But when the vampire arrived at the lake house, he only had groceries with him. A long way from the damonic plan the ghost had been anticipating.

" _What are you planning to do with that, exactly?"_

The vampire eyed him as if he had lost his mind, before giving a simple answer.

"Cooking."

" _Good, I was worried you were planning on making a sacrifice to the spirits of dead witches with a frozen chicken. No, really, Damon, what are you planning?"_

The vampire stopped cutting said frozen chicken just the time to look up at the ghost who was leaning against the kitchen island, next to him. He smiled mysteriously, and went back to cooking.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"

So Alaric was reduced to watch bemusedly as Damon occasionally grinned at the chicken he was cooking. Saying it wasn't a bit disturbing would be a lie. It was utterly strange, and the ghost just couldn't bring himself not to believe there was something fishy about Damon's behavior.

Of course, when the vampire started putting candles everywhere and set a table for two, the mystery started to uncover.

Around a quarter to ten, Ric found himself sitting on a chair, eye to eye with Damon, as the vampire served the wine in their glasses. The ghost really didn't know what to say at this point, and it only became worse when a plate of spaghetti bolognese was put before him.

" _You realize I can't eat nor drink, don't you?"_

Damon smiled a bit. He hadn't let his eyes off his lover, ghostly as he was, since he had begun eating, even if sometimes he almost missed his plate and stabbed at the table as a result. Luckily, he had enough experience eating while flirting for it not to be obvious.

"Don't be silly, I'll be eating your share. It would be a shame to waste my delicious cooking."

The vampire made a highly suggestive face as he finished his plate of spaghetti... before stealing Ric's. Not that the ghost cared, as he couldn't eat anyway.

" _Then why the romantic dinner?"_

"Well, 'had to mark your return, even if you're still dead. I figured it was as good as anything else..."

" _Besides the fact that I can't eat nor drink, you mean?"_

"Romantic still. You don't mind if I take your wine? No? Thanks. And who said this was all I had for this evening? The candles illumination can be used for much more than this romantic dinner."

But Damon wouldn't say anymore, and the ghost had to wait for the dinner to end. The vampire took his time, enjoying how Alaric seemed more and more dubious as to the upcoming end of this peculiar date. When he finally stood up, he still did not say anything, only walking around the room, extinguishing the candles.

The ghost and the vampire soon could only see the light from the one room which candles hadn't been snuffed out. Damon led the way upstairs, from where the faint light came, and Ric noted that the vampire had gone out of his way for him not to notice as he had put and lit the candles there earlier. When the ghost saw which room it was, he wasn't as surprised anymore.

Damon began to slowly undress, making a show of his perfect body, and while Alaric could certainly appreciate the view, he felt obliged to point out the very small problem with Damon's likely plan.

" _I think we've already established I cannot touch you for real, Damon. I'm sure you've been sex-deprived lately, but still. This isn't going to work."_

The vampire glared at him, but said nothing, as he went to sit, naked, on the bed. Ric kept quiet then, watching as his lover slowly touched himself, first masturbating, then his other hand going for his ass, putting one finger, then two, then three. After a time, the ghost went to sit next to his lover.

" _This is a bit lonely, no?"_

Damon smiled at him.

"It was, but it isn't anymore."


	84. OWA, part 13: Improvement

_The title might be slightly ironic._

 _Set after the end of 4x09, all the major changes to the storylines that haven't appeared in the previous chapters are told in the first part of the chapter, I think._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 13: Improvement**

The following days passed rather peacefully.

Peacefully, for Mystic Falls, of course. There were one or two skirmishes between vampires and hybrids, but no one died, so it could be called a peaceful time. There was drama, as always, but drama, in Mystic Falls, could turn out to be pretty dangerous. As no one was maimed / killed / buried-alive-in-an-old-church as a result, Damon felt confident that things were pretty tame yet.

Yes, Caroline and Tyler had finally fallen out because Vampire Barbie had enough of his plotting with the beautiful werewolf, Hayley, and, let's be honest, because Caroline was getting more and more affected by Klaus. The Original had not done anything really hateful for some time, truth to be told, and he was even helping with the whole hunters of the Five thing, though he did it in his own, self-centered way. Alaric's ghost spent half his time with Damon, the other half with Jeremy and Bonnie, who were trying to figure out a way to lessen the teenager's new anti-vampires instincts. Bonnie also studied supernatural things with a Professor Shane, whom she had met at Whitmore College. Elena was finally getting the hang of controlling her blood lust, thanks to Stefan's help. Ariane and Magdalena had met, and become fast friends; apparently, the Falkenbach had started searching for her "gone" cousin...

In one word, drama. No one had died, even if emotions were running high, and that was more than the Mystic Falls inhabitants usually got.

But speaking of drama, it was starting again with Damon, and Alaric was too busy worrying about everything else to help the vampire. Besides, given the nature of Damon's predicament, Ric couldn't do anything to help him. In fact, it was exactly that, the point of Damon's newfound reason to be depressed: the ghost was still a ghost.

Sometimes, Alaric wondered if the vampire wasn't simply searching for a reason to be depressed. Because, really, Damon could have waited a bit longer before falling back into depression.

Well, to be honest, it was still better than before. Damon hadn't gone totally depressed yet. He knew to appreciate the fact that he could see his ghostly boyfriend. Only, from time to time, usually after 10 p.m., he'd get moody, and take a drink. And another one. And another one.

Sure, it was only from ten to roughly two in the morning, unlike before. Before had been more like twelve hours out of the twenty-four hours in a day. Improvement.

More or less.

So, aside from the two hours when the vampire and the ghost would brood, Damon because of Ric, and Ric because of Jeremy's situation, because of Magdalena's investigation, because of Klaus' various plots that were sure to unfold sooner or later, the following days weren't so bad. Damon would even smile most of the time, and the ghost was relieved to have more than one person to talk to. Even if it had only gone up by two people, Ariane and Damon.

The vampire had even gone back to snooping around into others' business.

Stefan's, to begin with, because his little brother was acting suspiciously buddy-buddy with Klaus. On that, Damon had yet to learn much, because Stefan had caught him seemingly speaking to no one and was apparently worried for his sanity. The fool. Damon had never been sane. At that point of the older vampire's ranting to Alaric, Damon usually snorted, and Ric kept quiet, unwilling to contradict him.

Of course, Damon had not been talking to no one back then, but to the ghost, who was his little secret for now. He already had to share Ric with Jeremy and Ariane, though the grim reaper didn't matter quite as much as she hadn't known the history teacher beforehand. Damon wasn't in the mind to share his personal ghost any more than that just yet.

The vampire had also began to snoop around one Atticus Shane, the man who had taken the job of Bonnie's grandmother after her passing away, occult studies teacher. The guy had shown up not long before, and Damon had found him pretty suspicious. He always told Ric so, during their brooding sessions after ten o'clock in the evening. That is, when he wasn't too concerned with his glass of bourbon. Or with his glass of tequila. Or with his glass of scotch. It depended on if he had already finished all the bourbon.

Anyway, between hangovers and another drinking night, Damon had met Atticus Shane, and he had found him suspicious. Why didn't matter, or so he said, but the man was suspicious. Moreover, the guy was being friendly to Judgy, and the vampire thought that especially suspicious. Who in their right mind would be friendly with Judgy?

Elena had scowled at this part of the older vampire's explanation, the day before. Alaric had rolled his eyes. Damon had ignored the two of them.

Atticus Shane was shady, even if Ric would argue that it wasn't because the man was befriending Bonnie.

And since Professor Shane was shady and knew a great deal about everything supernatural, Damon snooped around. Sometimes with a big grin on his face. It was a bit freaky, to say the truth. When the vampire did that, Alaric wondered what had happened to the brooding Damon of the nights before.

Still, he liked better to see him smiling than crying. And the ghost agreed that Shane was a dubious character. The two had decided to go and take a look at the man's office at the end of the week. When Shane was away, of course.

The good point with being a ghost, Alaric mused, as he watched Damon taking yet another shot of alcohol, was that he would never be caught where he wasn't meant to be. For one obvious reason, people tended to overlook, sorry, to be unable to see him. Really great for one who wanted to be in places they weren't supposed to be.

Damon made his drink twirl in his glass with a flick of his wrist, before gulping it down. Then he looked with blurry eyes at the ghost beside him, who was making an illusionary drink do exactly the same, though the ghost didn't gulp it down. It was an illusionary drink, after all.

Alaric looked up from his illusionary glass and at his not-so-illusionary lover.

Damon was looking at him with a puppy face.

"Why did you die?"

The ghost blinked for a long time, and glanced back at the vampire, who really looked like someone had put his favorite puppy on fire before his very eyes, before throwing Rocky's mutilated body in the river. Considering Damon didn't have a puppy named Rocky that could have suffered all that, it was disturbing. Of course, some people might argue that what was disturbing was the fact that Alaric had even considered such an event to happen, but the ghost had seen enough of Mystic Falls to know everything was possible, even putting puppies on fire and throwing the bodies in the river.

So, as Damon didn't have a puppy named Rocky, the puppy face had most likely been triggered, not by a poor puppy, but by Alaric's death.

What it said about the two's relationship, will not be adressed here. Even if it could suggest that the vampire considered the history teacher his puppy pet.

" _Because that's what happens when someone is killed."_

The answer had been slow, almost tentative, as if the ghost was waiting for the vampire to burst out. Crying, or in anger. The two were possible.

Damon went back to staring at his drink. The alcohol was twirling wistfully in the glass, and the puppy face was still there. Ric glanced at the bottles next to the vampire. It wasn't as if Damon had had that much to drink, no?

The vampire's voice startled him again.

"I want a hug."

The ghost let out a strangled laugh, not knowing what to say to that. He couldn't do anything like a hug, but at least he should have something to say, right?

Just then, as if to save Alaric from the awkward situation, the front door of the lake house opened, catching Damon's attention. The depressed vampire turned his head to look at the door, but made no attempt to move, even when he caught sight of his visitor. Or should he say, visitors? One wasn't exactly conscious, but she sure as hell was present... And wait, what was this smell?

Blood?

"Make yourself at home."

Ariane arched both eyebrows at the tone of her old friend, her mouth set into a displeased twist. The grim reaper soon enough saw the cause of Damon's lack of response, and she scowled. He could at least help her get the mayor to one of the bedrooms.

"Great, another one who got too much to drink. Come and help me, you oaf, I have someone to save."

" _Someone to save? Damon, get your ass over here, Carol Lockwood is a right mess."_

The grim reaper looked up from the inebriated and wounded woman in her arms, and wasn't surprised to see Alaric Saltzman's ghost standing before her. Damon was making his way towards them, grumbling. It was more than probable that he was only complying because the ghost had told him to. From what she had seen of their relationship so far, Saltzman could get more from the vampire than anyone else. Even if Damon Salvatore remained himself; meaning, he still did many things as he pleased.

"Thanks for getting Damon to work, but since you're here, shouldn't you be stopping him from getting drunk like that?"

Foolish question, of course, because Damon did what he wanted, even if he happened to accept the ghost's opinion from time to time. But still, she couldn't help but to ask, as her eyes fell once more on the several bottles of alcohol on the dining table.

The vampire got past the ghost, and frowned at the unconscious mayor Ariane was trying to get up the stairs. Carol Lockwood was soaked, but not only with water. There was quite a lot of blood on her too, and he could see several scratches on her face.

"As if Ric could prevent me from drinking in his disembodied state. What happened?"

The grim reaper sighed as she let Damon take the woman to a bedroom himself. She didn't have super-strength like vampires, after all, and she had had to carry the woman from the town to the lake house by herself.

"Long story short, Klaus Mikaelson found out what her son was up to, and it didn't please him, so he tried to drown her in the foutain after the end of the Winter Wonderland party. I saw what happened and stopped him, forcing her out of the water before it was too late, but I had to drop her when Klaus attacked me back, hence the scratches. The blood is Klaus', I took his arm off, not that it won't grow back, he's an Original, after all. Then I ran all the way here."

The three supernatural beings were now in a small bedroom. Damon put the mayor on the bed as he listened to the tale, and sneered.

"Of course Lockwolf had to anger the All-powerful wolf-vamp. And people wonder why I don't like the teen! Now we'll have to calm Klaus..."

The vampire squinted, searching for a pulse, before bitting his hand and giving a bit of blood to Carol Lockwood. She wasn't mortally wounded, thanks to Ariane's intervention, but her fall would cause a few bruises in addition to the scratches if he didn't do anything.

Once they had made sure the woman would live, the three left the bedroom and went back down to the dining room.

Damon let himself fall on a chair, clearly annoyed but sober once more. Ah, the wonders of vampirism!

"Now, how do we deal with the Original Bastard?"

" _The first thing is to get the mayor out of town for a few days, for the sake of her health, for example. It wouldn't even be a real lie. Then we could try and convince Klaus not to murder us all, and her first..."_

Alaric had slipped back into his Falkenbach-mode, voice devoid of all emotions. Ariane looked at him with squinted eyes, as if something was coming back to her, that she hadn't yet realized with him being a ghost and all that. Damon observed the two, frowning, but whatever it was that the grim reaper had realized, it wasn't the point right now. They had to get out of Wolf Boy's mess.

"I'll go with her. I'm pretty sure Klaus isn't happy with me after the whole I-got-his-arm-off thing, and my being present during the peace negotiations wouldn't be wise."

" _Exactly. And you would be able to protect the mayor if he sends one of his lackeys."_

"I might even take Magdalena with us. That would keep her from investigating your 'disparition'..."

The three supernatural beings eventually agreed on a plan of action, and Ariane went back up the stairs, mentally preparing herself to announce to Carol Lockwood that she was going on a trip.

Damon, him, had to mentally prepare himself for Operation Calm-the-Wolf-King. Great. Really.


	85. OWA, part 14: Operation Calm-the-Wolf-Ki

_Somewhere around 4x14... I think. Maybe 4x13. Anyway._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 14: Operation Calm-the-Wolf-King**

Operation Calm-the-Wolf-King was going pretty smoothly. Damon had taken upon himself to play the part of an ambassador, with Alaric whispering at his ear to prevent the vampire from saying just the thing that shouldn't be said. Though, whispering wasn't actually needed, as Klaus couldn't exactly hear the ghost anyway.

The Original had pouted, sorry, Damon-speech here, had been rather adamant that he would not tolerate Ariane's meddling at first, true. But luckily for Damon, Ariane and Carol Lockwood, the two latters were not in Mystic Falls. Damon didn't even know where the grim reaper and the woman had gone, because Ric was acting as a talkie-walkie... sorry, as their contact. He could, after all, appear in and out of their hiding spot in a matter of instants, and no one could spy on him... Unless they were Damon, thanks to the nexus ring, Ariane because she was a grim reaper, or Jeremy with his near-death experience and his emotional link to the history teacher.

As it was very unlikely for Klaus to have another grim reaper who would be working for him, without Ariane knowing it, Alaric was the most discreet contact they could hope for.

But Damon had reminded the Original that he didn't actually want Carol dead, as the thousand years old hybrid kind of liked her, that he only wanted revenge on Tyler. Then the vampire had brought up the sensitive topic of Caroline Forbes, and pointed out that Klaus wasn't going to endear himself to her by killing either her probably-future-mother-in-law or her boyfriend. Which was a small lie, as Caroline was definitely done with Tyler, not that Klaus needed to know. In fact, it would even work to the Original Hybrid's advantage if he could... overlook Tyler's rebellious attitude, and let it go for this time. If he did that, and the younger hybrid went on with his scheming, then he would be ungrateful, and Klaus could get his rightful revenge without getting in Caroline's bad books.

When Ric had suggested that idea, Damon had given him an odd look. Klaus had noticed the strange moment, but it had been pushed out of his thoughts when Damon had actually repeated the ghost's idea. Niklaus Mikaelson seemed to be really smitten with Caroline, after all, and it was obvious that he was making efforts to be less of a bastard... Just, not enough efforts, and he often reverted back to his villainous ways, reason why the fair lady had been so hesitant to give in to his charms and let go of Tyler's problematic attitude.

So far, the negotiations had gone well enough, so, and even Carol Lockwood had agreed to keep Klaus' own problematic attitude and misdeeds a secret, if the Original promised not to murder her when she'd get back in town. It wasn't easy, because Klaus and promises were a fickle combination at best, but it was better than nothing, considering the mayor refused to go and live somewhere else. Ariane didn't really fear Klaus, but she wasn't keen on the idea that they'd have to fight again... and again... and again, if the situation didn't settle down, so she was more than willing to cooperate, as long as she was free to go wherever she wanted. Klaus had first suggested for her to keep out of "his" territory. It hadn't been very well received.

Damon wished to point out, though, even if they were now at a standstill, these negotiations had just gone waaaaay better and had lasted waaaaay longer than what was usual for Mystic Falls.

The thing was, while Damon, Alaric and Klaus were busy trying to agree on a way that would not cause the death of anyone, the other people in the small city had lived. And their drama had unfolded too. The Shady Shane had told Jeremy and Stefan about a cure to vampirism, some time ago, and now the two and Elena had come to the conclusion that for them to find said Cure, they had to kill the Original Kol. And they had done just that.

In normal circumstances, Damon wouldn't even have blinked at the decision. Actually, he didn't like the Kold Bastard. And yes, "Original Bastard" was already taken, so he had to find another derogative nickname. Anyway, getting Kol out of the way wasn't exactly a problem to him.

And the fact that said Kold Bastard had compelled the vampire to try and kill Jeremy during the last week certainly wasn't working in Kol's favor, true. But.

But it just so happened that the Kold Bastard was the Original Bastard's brother, and that Damon was in fact trying to negotiate peace with said Original Bastard. So things weren't exactly... looking good, right now.

But it just so happened that the two only persons who could have fought, and would have been willing to fight, Klaus off long enough for everyone to run away before they were brutally murdered were either a ghost, or not here. Meaning, Alaric was kind of unable to do anything, even if he was the ghost of an Enhanced Original plus a man cursed with assassination instincts, because the important word here was "ghost". Meaning, Ariane was somewhere else, protecting Carol Lockwood from the very same Original Bastard. Meaning, they were screwed.

Oh, and did Damon forget to mention that now, Klaus was trapped in the Gilbert's house? Yes? Well, now he had thought it.

The vampire scowled, and shook his head. All this, before, was a brief summary of his last days. Sometimes he wondered why he wasn't fervently wishing for the supernatural to simply be eradicated from the surface of Earth. It would make his life so much easier... Then he would remember that it was this supernatural that allowed him to live right now.

That's why he was scowling, by the way.

On the other side of the magical barrier, Klaus snorted.

"Aren't I the one who should be angry at being here? You're not stuck in this house, are you? And no one killed your brother."

Invisibly sitting on the couch, Alaric's ghost nodded. He totally saw why Kol's murder would anger the hybrid. Even if he didn't like Kol any more than Damon did.

" _He's got a point, you know. You're not stuck in the house, unlike him. Though I have to say, if Kol hadn't been killed, Jeremy would have been, and it would be Elena sulking and calling for revenge for her brother's murder, which is much more sleep-depriving for me than Kol Mikaelson's death."_

There the ghost squinted at some point of the ceiling.

" _Not that I can sleep, of course."_

This, made Damon snap. Why did Ric had to defend Klaus, of all people?

"Don't defend him, you dick. And yes, someone killed my brother. My father did, a few decades ago. 'Killed me too, parenthetically."

Klaus' eyebrows shot up. The Original seemed... amused. Wasn't he the one who was willing to gut them all, not even ten hours ago? Something about Karate Kid murdering his beloved troublemaker of a bloody vampiric brother?

"Technicalities. Stefan is... un-alive right now. Speaking of which, my father / step-father / trash-father killed us too... 'Must be the reason why we're so shitty at family stuff, you and I."

Ric laughed drily, having himself some family issues, though not with his father.

" _You should start a club. But I'm quite sure that the fact you don't care about people in general might have something to do with your issues."_

Damon threw a sponge at the ghost, who winced when the soaked thing fell through him. It still was strange, when such things happened. But it was better than when it was a living thing, person, animal, or monster, because those pushed him out of the way...

"Shut up."

This time, Klaus did not let the odd behavior go by. It wasn't the first time he had witnessed the vampire speaking to someone who wasn't him, or here for the matter. It wasn't the first time, either, that he had witnessed the vampire swinging at the air, as if he was trying to get rid of someone... who was not here. And the Original be damned... that is, more than he already was... if the new ring the vampire was wearing wasn't a magical one. Klaus had seen enough magical rings to recognize one when he saw one.

And this ring was not a daylight ring. Besides, Damon still wore his old daylight ring.

There obviously was something he was missing here.

"Who are you talking to?"

Damon continued to glare at the empty couch.

"Not your business."

Klaus waited for a minute, and asked again. The answer was the same. So he asked once more one minute latter. Damon was still snapping at him. The Original squinted, far from willing to lose this battle of will.

Alaric watched for a time the two, but soon he couldn't bear it anymore, and burst out laughing.

" _You sound like bickering children, you know that?"_

"Yes I do. Now shut up."

Ric smirked, and went back to lying on the couch.

" _Kids, these days..."_

Klaus was now staring at the couch intently, eyes squinted. Then a large, toothy smile spread on his face, and he turned to taunt Damon.

"You've got a ghost haunting you, and for some reason that new ring of yours makes it possible for you to see them! Who is it? One of your victims? I bet the one who gave you the ring is that grim reaper? Oh my, Damon! I thought she was your friend..."

"She is! And no, it's not one of my victims. It's someone... I care bout."

The vampire had mumbled that last part, refusing to look at the Original. Ric's smirk, back there on the couch, grew a bit larger, but he said nothing. Klaus kept silent for a time, as he thought back to...

"Damn, it's your teacher, right? You are still head over heels for that guy! I believed you had gotten over him after he tried to kill you, but apparently you did not. You know, I didn't think you were that kind of guy... You seem too, ah, attached to the fairer sex."

The Original had a malicious look on his face, and was definitely thinking this was all very funny. Damon, of course, was getting grumpy as the conversation didn't seem to die down.

"I'm still straight. Ric's an exception. If you really want to pinpoint my sexual orientation right now, you can say I'm alaricsexual. And he's not 'my' teacher."

A chuckle came from the far-away couch, that only Damon heard.

" _Whatever you say, sweetheart. And I'm sure 'alaricsexual' isn't an actual word, but I'm flattered. That aside, you know you can retaliate with Caroline, don't you? Wolfie still hasn't gotten her good favors, and he is still pinning after her, I believe. You, at least, have mines."_

Caroline had gone with Elena and the others in search of the miraculous Cure, as Damon had stayed behind to take care of the peace negotiations... and of the charred remains of one Kol Mikaelson, because, really, it wasn't looking good, all that black in the kitchen.

No need to say, Klaus had been disappointed to hear that. He'd rather have had the blond girl to keep him company than Damon, who kept on going back to the possible terms of their possible truce even if it was obvious that the vampire didn't enjoy it more than Klaus did. Though Damon was almost as entertaining to tease as Caroline... Not in the same way, though.

The same was true, however, about teasing Klaus.

Damon decided he'd rather not spend the rest of the day being the Original Bastard's victim, ignored Alaric when the ghost pointed out he didn't have to spend the rest of the day with Klaus, and let go of the cleaning products he had been attacking the burnt traces with all day. The vampire stood up, rested his back against the kitchen island, and tilted his chin up so that he'd seem a bit haughty. Damon could do haughty very well, after all.

Klaus locked eyes with the vampire, waiting for a jab of some sort. He'd tolerate it for now. After all, it helped him not to get bored with his captivity.

"Behave, wolf-vamp. Vampire Barbie is a control-freak, and you definitely need practice."

Klaus only squinted daggers at the vampire for the comment, which was an odd thing to do, but eitherway, while Damon suddenly grew toughtful, no doubt trying to imagine the Original Hybrid on a leash, happily trotting behind Caroline...

Damon gulped, unsure whether it was hillarious, or creepy. Maybe it was both.

" _Now's the moment to change subject, I believe..."_

Alaric was finding all that very entertaining, to be frank, but he couldn't let it heard in his tone, or Damon would surely snap at him again...

As if he had heard him, Klaus focused on something else, that would soon lead them back to heir peace negotiations, but not yet. Something else, or someone else, more accurately. Someone who had taken off his arm, not long ago.

"You said this Ariane was a grim reaper? I met one, once, long ago... He had said they were only eleven... Count yourself lucky to have such a 'rare' friend, Damon."

Unseen to Klaus, the ghost and the vampire shared a surprised look.

Hadn't Ariane said there were twelve of them?


	86. OWA, part 15: Falconcreek

_Set in 4x15._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 15: Falconcreek**

 _"You know, there's no point mulling over the possibility of a missing grim reaper when the only person who can answer our questions is not here."_

Damon rolled his eyes, but stopped pacing.

"Thank you captain obvious, but the alternative is to mull over the fact that Jeremy's dead, Elena's heart-broken, and we still have a great deal of problems to take care of. So I'd rather wonder about what happened to the 'missing' grim reaper, especially now that I remember Ariane told me about him... He's dead. Problem is, how do you kill a grim reaper? And, speaking of which, who else than the grim reapers knows about that? Is there even a chance someone will try to murder my friend any time soon?"

Then he paused, and turned aound to look the ghost in the eyes.

The ghost who, by the bye, was currently sitting in the library of the boarding house, his eyes glued to an imaginary glass of bourbon. If imaginary bourbon had the same effect as true bourbon, it would have been great, in fact, because these days, Alaric felt nothing could go worse... Though he knew it could. It obviously could. Mystic Falls' supernatural occupants knew it could always get worse, because that was usually how it worked in the small city.

"No, because really, losing yet another friend is exactly what I need right now, and while the threat is almost non-existent, I'd rather be puzzled searching for an answer than brooding about what happened lately. There are too many people affected already, and someone in this city needs to get their head around the facts and prevent the situation from worsening, and the hell with it if I'm not the only one who seems to realize that!"

Seeing as Alaric was, in fact, at this very moment, getting himself depressed by staring at a glass of imaginary bourbon while remembering now and then that Jeremy was dead, the ghost didn't feel entitled to point out that Damon was surely not the only person in town who was still thinking clearly. Besides, he knew Damon, and the vampire wasn't going to allow himself to show his feelings about Jeremy's death just like that. Maybe later that night, when Damon brought out the alcohol, and when he drowned his annoyance at the world with him, but not for now. Not yet.

Damon would not mourn, or at least not show it, until he had nothing else to do. And if, as this day, the vampire had nothing to do, then he'd find something to busy himself with to postpone the moment of release.

So Damon prefered to wonder about the mystery of the dead grim reaper, for now.

" _Ariane will soon be back with Carol Lockwood and my cousin, Damon. You'll ask her when she gets here. It shouldn't be long, now. What are the odds that she'll be attacked on the last twenty minutes of travelling from where they stayed to the boarding house? And even if she was attacked, there is little to no chance that it would be by that one person who possibly knows how to kill a grim reaper."_

Then the front door of the boarding house was pushed open, and ghost and vampire heard the footsteps of someone coming to them, as well as the unmistakable accent of a formerly roman woman.

"I hope not! But unless that very attacker who knows how to fell me is hiding in your kitchen, Damon, I dare say I made it to you without damages."

Ariane strode into the library, and let herself fall into the nearest armchair.

"Carol Lockwood has been delivered to her home without so much as a scratch, Magdalena Haguenhauer is growing fairly suspicious of what is going on in this charming little town, and Ariane who-won't-tell-you-her-real-name-because-it-sounds-way-too-odd-in-this-day-and-age has not been killed by a mysterious attacker. Mission accomplished. Now, what did I miss, and why are you discussing my possible murder?"

Damon grumbled a greeting, and Alaric looked up from his imaginary bourbon.

" _Aside from convincing Klaus not to try and murder you and the mayor, everything went downhill these last days. The teens went to an island to get the Cure for vampirism, only to discover that it could be taken by only one person at a time, and Jeremy got murdered by his sister's evil doppelganger just before he reached the grand prize."_

Ariane sighed, wondering once again why she was friend with Damon. At the speed tragedies occurred in Mystic Falls, maybe it wasn't so far-fetched to think she'd better watch her back...

Howsoever Damon and his personal ghost had ended up talking about the way to kill a grim reaper in the first place.

Damon thought it necessecary to add his sarcastic comment. Surely his way to cope with grief.

"And I'm sure there are one or two other things that happened at some point too, but I failed to register after the part about the expedition being a failure and Jeremy Gilbert dying."

Ariane rose from her seat. She made to leave until she remembered she didn't actually have a place in town and was crashing at the boarding house. Then she stopped, and looked back at the two brooding vampires, one undead and the other dead-dead. Because no matter what Damon pretended, the vampire was brooding.

"I'll go and take a shower if you don't mind, and then we could speak about what prompted you to question my immortality? What do you think?"

Damon waved her away, and the grim reaper rushed upstairs. Whatever the two lovers would talk about now, it was not her right to eavesdrop.

Ariane gone, Ric looked away from his imaginary glass of imaginary alcohol, which returned to the true state of every imaginary thing: non existence. The ghost found Damon quiet, his back leaning against a wall, with anger in his eyes. Alaric went to him, and adopted a similar position, only keeping his hands in his pockets. It wasn't as if he could hug the vampire in his current not-so-imaginary ghostly state, so he figured it was better to keep the temptation to a minimum.

" _See, the answer came to us. Now speak to me."_

The vampire glared at him, and refused to answer, bitting his lips.

" _Damon, there's no point in denying you cared. Jeremy's gone, and you can be an ass about it, as always, but you should speak to someone and be honest, even if only once. Even if only with me."_

Damon scoffed derisively, his eyes searching his ghostly boyfriend's face in search of a heartbreak he was sure he wouldn't find. Alaric wasn't heartless, far from it. But he wasn't a normal person either. He was a Falkenbach, and dealing with death was something so natural to him, that he didn't really know what to do with his emotions when it struck someone close to him.

With Jeremy, it seemed to be bearable, but Damon had seen the hunter's reaction at the his agony by werewolf bite, a few months ago.

"Because you do so well with grieving!"

He didn't mean to underplay Ric's feelings about Jeremy's death. But he didn't think Alaric could help him cope. They were too different, if only on that point, for it to work. The ghost was cursed, and his emotional center was not complete. He lacked something to be humane, and speaking of grieving fell right into that category.

Damon witnessed the hurt on Ric's face being washed away by concern, once again, and he felt disgusted with himself. But he didn't know what else to say. Jeremy was dead, and it hurt. But beyond that? There wasn't much else to say, and truth to be told, it wasn't the first time someone the vampire cared about died.

" _Damon, please..."_

But the vampire wouldn't give in, and it was only Ariane's return that broke the silence, a few minutes later.

The grim reaper was still in the process of getting her grey t-shirt into the right position when she passed by the library in search of her car key, which she had left... somewhere between the entrance and the armchair. The two got a nice sight of her stomach, efficiently distracting Damon from his brooding. The vampire was about to point it out with a smirk, when Ariane turned around, having not found her keys anywhere near the armchair.

"And I forgot my phone in the car. Great. If the Apocalypse happened while I was taking a shower and I couldn't react because I forgot to take it with me, I swear I'll..."

She was cut by a double gasp of surprise, and stopped on her tracks.

Turning around a bit, just enough to see the two's faces, Ariane frowned.

"Is something the matter?"

Damon was surprised, alright, but it was more Alaric who concerned her, as he looked... well, utterly shocked. Ariane followed their gazes, and her eyes fell on her t-shirt. It didn't take her long to figure out what was making them gawk like that. Her suspicions about Alaric Saltzman, as well as his cousin Magdalena Haguenhauer, were suddenly confirmed, and now she could say without hesitation that she knew why the two, ghost or alive, felt so vaguely familiar.

" _This tattoo... It's an eight-pointed star, isn't it?"_

The ghost reached for his left shoulder, but she wasn't even sure he had noticed his own gesture.

The grim reaper sighed, and turned back for them to take a better look at the said tattoo in the small of her back. It was, indeed, an eight-pointed star, made of four thin, turquoise lines, just the same color as the tattoos under her eyes. Just the same figure as the scar she knew Alaric to have on the back of his left shoulder.

It wasn't really a tattoo, as the marks under her eyes weren't either. All the grim reapers had these, the star, and the marks under the eyes. Ariane wasn't sure how, or why, but it had been another result of the ritual that had made them what they were. And for those who knew about the grim reapers, it was a way to tell them apart from the mortals immediately.

"We were going to speak of the one person who ever managed to kill one of my kind, weren't we? Well, it is all related. Sit down."

The ghost and the vampire did as they were told, still to stunned to act otherwise. Ariane put her t-shirt right, and went to the armchair she had used not so long before. There she sat down, and there she waited for the questions.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Do you know the means to kill your kind, and is there any risk of it happening again?"

The grim reaper looked at Damon, noticing with interest that he was avoiding the topic of the tattoo for now, as if he wasn't sure how to ask about it.

"Of course, it may happen again. There is always a way, always a loophole to immortality. But the one man who ever killed a grim reaper is long dead, and he did not leave instructions behind. As far as I know, no one knows, today, how he managed that particular feat."

This time, it was the ghost who spoke. His voice was carefully controlled.

" _He was... human?"_

Ariane laughed a bit, at the irony of being asked this question by this person.

"Oh yes, he was. It happened in the seventh century, in a town that would be situated in Germany today, if it hadn't been... almost wiped out with that event. A true scene of slaughter, the few who survived left the place afterwards. Witches particularly hate the place, even today."

The grim reaper fixed her eyes on the ghost's, making sure to speak her next sentence with intent.

"The grim reaper's murder happened in a place named Falconcreek."

Alaric paled visibly as he realized what it meant.

" _Falkenbach in German."_

Next to him, Damon blinked once or twice. The vampire looked at the two people who shared a similar figure on their bodies, one as a turquoise tattoo, the other as a ritual scar that acted as a seal upon his imcomplete emotional center. Finally it sank in.

Damon had to refrain himself from trying and putting his hand on Ric's shoulder. He still couldn't touch the ghost, after all.

"You mean, this man who killed one of yours, it's possible that he was... Alaric's ancestor?"

Ariane nodded, her face grave, as she remembered the trip she had gone onto as soon as she had heard the news. Herself, and the ten other remaining grim reapers, had arrived at Falconcreek a few months after the actual events, but they had found the man, and they had heard the story.

And they had seen the consequences of Ascagne's killing.

"The Falkenbachs were the descendants of the only man to have ever killed a grim reaper. As such, they became the greatest human killers to have walked this Earth. Their curse is that even though they are human, they share Ascagne's blood."

Ariane gestured at Alaric.

"And you, Alaric Saltzman, are of this same blood. Welcome to the family."

And someone cursed loudly on the other side of the nearest window. A window, that was open.


	87. OWA, part 16: Snitch

**One world apart, part 16: Snitch**

One moment, Damon was sitting on the couch.

The next, he wasn't.

The vampire had blurred to the window, and grabbed whoever it was who was listening in. Not even taking the time to register the bright red hair in his hand, Damon pulled the intruder's head by the window sill, tackling it against the wall, in a up-is-down manner. The vampire smelled the scent of blood, but he could tell it wasn't much, only a few drops. He hadn't bashed the intruder's head against the wall that hard...

"I don't care who you are, I don't care for who you're doing it, but no one eavesdrops on my private conversations! Tell me, how should I kill you for spying on me in my own house?"

Ric tried to get Damon to calm down, and maybe to ask questions before actually killing people, but a "click" beat him to it.

Damon found himself starring at a M1911 pointed under his jaw, though he had no idea how exactly the intruder could tell where his jaw was, given the red head's position. Not that the gun would do real and permanent damage, but still, the vampire'd rather not have a bullet in his brain if he could help it. And there was still the risk that this particular gun had been loaded with wooden bullets.

Which, given the town they lived in, and the fact that the intruder had been spying on his boarding house, home to two vampires, was more than probable.

And again, even if a wooden bullet would not kill him either, unless it was shot in his heart, Damon'd rather not get shot with a wooden bullet for all that. Wooden bullets were just freaking painful, you see?

And they were a pain in the ass to get out, so if he got one in his brain... Yuck.

"Thanks for asking, Damon, but you weren't answering when I knocked at the door. I was merely trying to get to you... another way."

Recognizing the drawling voice at once, the vampire let go of the red-headed woman, surprise clearly written on his face. Magdalena winced, and turned her head right and left, her neck being a bit painful after all that rough handling.

" _Damon, move over here. Mag might just shoot you if you stay too close to her after... Well, after you bashed her head against a wall."_

The vampire rolled his eyes, but did just as he had been told to.

"Yeah, right. You Falkenbachs are a bunch of barbarians, anyway."

The ghost smirked, amused.

" _Like you're any better, love."_

Then Damon looked back at the young woman on the other side of the window.

Magdalena had both her elbows on the window sill, her chin leaning on her closed fists, and was eyeing him warily. Her M1991 was nowhere in sight; then again, the vampire had never seen her with it during the last weeks, but now that he knew she had one, he wouldn't be surprised to learn she never went out without it. The right side of her red hair was soaked in blood, but she only had a small gash on her forehead. Head wounds bled a lot.

Ignoring the fact that Magdalena was pouring blood on the window frame, because it might have been, slightly, just a little bit, kind of his fault, Damon handed her a handkerchief.

"Long time no see, Magdalena. How are you doing?"

The lawyer responded in kind, wiping some blood away, before pressuring on the gash with the tissue as if it was totally normal for them to exchange civilities after a death threat.

"I ran into a wall earlier today. That aside, I'm pleased to see you too, Damon. And for your information, if I am to be murdered, I'd rather it be quick, and not too bloody. A twisted neck sounds good."

Though it was possible that it was, actually, normal to her. Alaric wouldn't be the one to say the contrary, as the both of them shared many memories of sweet family time... and of Saltzman training-of-hell time. God knew him and Theodoric had been only this close to greet each other that way too: murder attempt, then civilities.

Damon sent her a dazzling smile, while Ric's ghost wondered, once again, why he hadn't just gone to the afterlife. Even Hell had to be less crazy than this.

"Good to know, and you are lucky, twisting necks is my speciality. Anything else you wanted to tell me, as you went out of your way to get to my house?"

Magdalena's eyes jumped over to Ariane, who was politely watching the conversation. The woman didn't seem very disturbed by all this either. Then again, if what the lawyer had heard as she had made her way to the window, hoping to see someone in the boarding house, was true, it wouldn't be surprising that to Ariane too, this situation was pretty normal.

"Actually, I'm here for you. Guess what I found buzzing in my suitcase?"

And the red head brandished the grim reaper's cell phone, a thin grin creeping on her forcedly-stern facial expression.

Ariana blinked, and took the cell phone, wondering out loud how it had ended up in her friend's suitcase of all places. Magdalena took the opportunity to point out that the caller's ID had been "Devil-in-disguise", with a pointed look at the phone. Ariane swore, and scowled at the phone, which she quickly put on silent mode. No one managed to get more from her, as she simply went to sit in an armchair, her features dark, and her glare unwelcoming.

Mag shrugged and turned back to Damon.

"You know, I couldn't help but hear..."

Ric facepalmed, and declared he was done with all sorts of secrets and lies, before flopping down on the couch, his eyes fixed on the ceiling decidedly.

"...a part of your conversation. Is my cousin back in town?"

Damon tried to catch Alaric's or Ariane's attention, but both were ignoring his attempts. So the vampire decided to simply be cautious, and answer Magdalena's inquiry with another question.

And if the ghost or the grim reaper weren't happy with what would come out of his choice, whatever it would be, then they'd just have to suck it up. Let's not be said that he hadn't tried to give them a say in the matter.

"How much of our conversation did you hear, exactly?"

"From the 'The Falkenbach were the descendants of the only man to have ever killed a grim reaper' part. By the way, who's Ascagne?"

Ariane grumbled, from her glaring contest with the wall on the other side of the room.

"Seven centuries old, fell in love, saw her die, went ballistic, became a psychopathic killer."

From the couch, Ric mumbled as he glanced at Damon, who totally ignored him.

" _Well that rings a bell..."_

The vampire had all his attention on the lawyer, mostly because he did not want to think about Katherine, and because he wasn't keen on explaining to the red head what her cousin meant by that. Good thing she couldn't hear Ric. How would he do that, anyway? "Hey, I've murdered a few hundreds of people in the last century and a half"? No, certainly not.

So Damon scrunched up his nose, and muttered that of course, she couldn't have helped it, it wasn't as if the lawyer had been listening for a good thirty seconds before she cursed loudly, and go their attention.

Magdalena gave him a scathing look, well aware of what the dark-haired man was currently thinking. The conversation may have been private, but it was her ancestors that Ariane and Damon, and possibly Alaric, though she had yet to see him, had been talking about. She felt she had a right to know. And so, a right to listen.

"Speaking of which, on top of Ric's location, I also wanted to ask what it was all about, grim reapers and curses included."

Damon tried one last time to get the two others' opinions, but they were still ignoring him. So, caution be damned, and possibly thrown to the wind too, he was going to tell her. The Falkenbach had been growing suspicious of Mystic Falls in the whole for some time already, it wasn't as if she wasn't going to find out at some point. Hell, it was even a wonder she still didn't know about the supernatural while living here! She herself was a cursed woman, and the supernatural population of the city kept going up these days... And down, too, because supernatural beings tended to end up dead pretty quickly in Mystic Falls, but it wasn't the point.

"Alaric is just here, sulking on the couch, if you want to know."

Mag blinked, and then narrowed her eyes at said couch, which was very obviously devoid of all living presence. What was Damon trying to achieve here, exactly?

"Oh, and Ariane's a grim reaper, I'm a vampire, Ric's a ghost, reason why you can't see him... And you are a cursed woman."

The lawyer thought about telling Damon off for his antics, but Ariane had finally decided to come out of her glaring-at-a-wall session. The grim reaper tossed her cell phone at the vampire, who caught it without even trying.

"Great, now she knows. Anything else you want to tattle about, snitch?"

Damon sneered at the grim reaper, before walking over to the window.

"I didn't hear you giving her the shadow of an explanation, true or false for the matter."

Ariane just stood up, and made her way to the room she had been free-loading in. A fact that Damon liked to rub in her face, from time to time. Mosty, when he felt like being an ass.

"I'm not the one introducing her to our wonderful world, just so you know. You told her, it's your job. Now, I have to go and mull over the imbecility of in-laws, so if you'd let me..."

Damon didn't bother trying to find out what his friend meant by that, though he had an inkling it had to do with "Devil-in-disguise".

Magdalena stared in bewilderment as the dark-haired man, sorry, vampire, she'd have to get her head around that, bit his own wrist. His face had changed slightly, dark veins appearing around his eyes, and the scleras turning red, while his canines sharpened, becoming fangs. The lawyer blinked when he offered her the wrist, where the new wound was already fading.

"Drink. It'll heal your gash."

Mag stared dumbly at him, trying to see if he was joking or not. The now-very-obviously-vampiric man rolled his eyes, and pushed his wrist against her mouth, so that she only had to open her mouth.

"Drink. You won't turn into a vampirejust like that, if that's what you're worried about. And yes, I owe you that, at least, because I'm the reason you are wounded."

Still unsure that he wasn't playing with her, Magdalena gulped down some blood tentatively. It could do no harm, even if it didn't work, could it? And it wasn't as if she had ever been bothered by the taste of blood. She was a Saltzman by her mother, after all.

A moment passed, and slowly the pain from her head wound disappeared. When she couldn't feel anything anymore, Mag took off the handkerchief, and touched the place where she had been injured, and found nothing, except a bit of dried blood.

Her eyes went back to Damon, wide open, and she stammered a bit when she spoke.

"You weren't kidding."

"Of course I wasn't. Sit down, and start with the questions about the supernatural. I'm not letting you out of this house until you know enough not to get in trouble with any of the monsters that live around Mystic Falls, because believe me, they are numerous."

Then the vampire shot a glance at his sulking lover, and added:

"And because if I did, your cousin would nag at me for all eternity. Ghosts never shut up, you see?"

" _As if you'd want me to shut up and ignore you until world's end."_

"Ric got a point. Don't ask, he's just being an ass. Anyway. What do we start with?"

Magdalena's eyes flittered to the still-very-empty couch, wondering how exactly Damon could tell that Alaric was there and not somewhere else, how the vampire could hear him if he was a ghost, and why Ric was he a ghost in the first place?, but she felt it would be better to start with the simple stuff, or else she would get lost. The supernatural seemed to be rather... labyrinthine.

"So... Vampires, ghosts, grim reapers and cursed people exist?"

"As well as werewolves, witches, hybrids, and doppelgangers. And I'm sure I don't know everything yet, I mean, I'm only one hundred and seventy-two years old!"

Mag blinked, still processing.

"What are hybrids?"

"Ah, these guys! Werewolves and vampires at the same time. But Ric is better: he's a ghost, a cursed man, and an enhanced Original vampire at the same time. His serial killer days were fun..."

" _Oh joy..."_


	88. OWA, part 17: They lived

_I only want to point out: no Delena - no sire bond - no forced switching off the emotions - no burning the Gilbert house - no new hairdo for Elena!_  
 _If only for the last two, I'm happy that I wrote this fanfiction. ( not only, of course, but still )_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 17: They lived**

"So, any question?"

Damon couldn't help but feel smug as he asked that. The look on Magdalena's face was enough to say that yes, the woman had questions, but that no, she would not be asking them right away. She was most likely disturbed by her accelerated all-the-supernatural-in-two-hours lessons.

Mag didn't answer, anyway. She simply stood up, and swayed a bit towards the exit, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. She might have been from the Saltzman family, but there still was a limit to how much weirdness she could bear in a day.

Her limit was well passed, this time.

As she finally found the front door of the boarding house, she heard the vampire's teasing voice.

"And don't get lost on the way back! The Big Bad Wolf eats the Little Red Riding Hood in the original story, like, definitely, don't forget!"

Magdalena would have been slightly miffed at the coment, had she not understood what Damon was implying by that. Though it was unlikely for Klaus Mikaelson to go after her for a reason or another, Mag couldn't hold her own against that kind of opponent. An Original hybrid, nothing less! Living in the same town as herself, for so long!

And how had she missed the whole there-truly-are-monsters-in-the-shadows part, all her life?

What the red head didn't hear was Alaric's scolding at Damon's teasing, since her cousin was somewhat ghostly. Eventually said ghost sighed.

" _You're impossible, Damon."_

"Of course I am. I'm pretty sure you said that a good hundred of times since we know each other."

The vampire offered his boyfriend a perfect smile, though it might have been more of a blinding smirk, however Damon managed to do that. Ric threw an imaginary pen at his lover, which the vampire evaded easily. After all, it was an imaginary pen.

"And you can't deny your cousin got the 'Red' part of the 'Little Red Riding Hood' right. She's a red head, after all. Flaming, red head."

Before the ghost could say anything, and believe him, he had something poisonous ready just for the vampire on the tip of his immaterial tongue at any moment, the front door to the boarding house opened again. The undead and the dead looked back at the entrance, and saw Stefan and Elena there, both frowning at the outside.

"Was that...?"

"Yeah..."

"She seemed..."

"Shaken, I'd say..."

"And she looked at us funny, didn't she?"

Damon raised an eyebrow at the shared speech. It was a bit sickening, truth to be told. In his opinion, only twins had the right to do that. God forbid, if he and Ric had ever done that, he'd have cut off both their tongues. Or, maybe only his, considering the teacher's tongue wouldn't have grown back, as he was human... Supposing a vampire's cut-off body part grew back. Damon had yet to test that, and, oddly enough, he wasn't eager to if he couldn't test that on someone else first. Just in case, you know, it didn't grow back.

"Lovebirds, over here! Hello, Earth to Stelena?"

Stefan, Elena and Alaric stared at the vampire funnily, but he ignored their reaction. Damon gestured for the couple to come closer, and eventually they did, though they seemed wary of him.

They had reasons to be, of course.

Stefan hadn't forgotten how his brother had lately been talking to himself, as if Ric had been present. Furthermore, he hadn't forgotten that Damon's lover and anchor to sanity had died not so long ago. While the older vampire wasn't completely gone, because he still had his family and his friends to rely on, Damon hadn't been really stable lately. His sarcasm had become worse than ever, and he hovered from one mood to another. Not that many victims, yet, but he still had killed one or two people lately.

As for Elena, the girl had been busy trying to adjust to her new condition as a vampire, and now getting over her brother's death, but she had seen the devastating effects of Ric's death on Damon nonetheless. She was his friend, after all, and that even though Damon would claim she wasn't more than his annoying little sister of sorts. She knew how to read the suffering in him, almost as well as Stefan did.

Sometimes the young vampire felt guilty for having asked Stefan to save Matt first, thus causing her own death, and the hunter's. She knew it was the best it could have gone, anyway, but she still felt slightly guilty for Damon's loss. It wasn't as if the hunter, the Darkness Alaric had become, would have become cuddly with his former lover again if she hadn't died, and everyone knew that. And Matt was alive; it was important, too. Ric would have liked this outcome rather than living at the cost of Matt's life and of all the vampires' on Earth, Damon, Stefan and Caroline included.

Elena knew all that. But she couldn't help but feel guilty, when she looked at Damon, and saw that strange, agonizing glint in his eyes. And she couldn't help but feel sad, suffocated even, when she turned around to ask Alaric what he wanted for dinner, only to realize he wasn't here anymore.

She had lost too many people, these last three years. First, her parents, then Jenna, then Ric, and now Jeremy! And there was no one to blame for all these deaths, because no one had asked for her parents' accident to happen, and she hadn't asked to be a Petrova doppelganger either.

But she had to live on, as long as she could, and not like Katherine, who had only been a parasite, all her life. And Damon needed to do that, too. The problem was, the older vampire tended to go by worse, and all the way to the worst, before getting better. The body count since Alaric's death was suspiciously low, and Elena as well as Stefan were waiting for the moment when Damon would simply explode.

Of course, they didn't know about Ariane's nexus ring. So the couple walked slowly, as one approaches a supposedly tamed beast, supposedly being the key word here. So Damon watched them, barely refraining from rolling his eyes at their caution.

The boarding house's resident ghost snorted in the awkward silence.

" _Stelena, really? And what does that make us? Dalaric?"_

Damon's eyes darted to his lover, surprising his brother and Elena. He almost retorted something, he even opened his mouth to talk, but he remembered their presence. And even if it was a bit selfish of him, especially after Jeremy's death, he didn't want to share the secret of his seing Alaric before a few months, maybe. It was his private, secret garden, in a way.

So, instead of saying what he had been about to say, he paused, and looked back at the couple.

He still had another thing to tell them, after all.

"I suppose you were talking about Ric's cousin?"

Stefan nodded, his gaze wandering back to the front door, which was now closed, and from which Magdalena had surely gotten away for quite some time already.

"Exactly. She seemed... weird. Like she had eaten something bad. And she looked at us strangely, as if she was seeing us for the first time, you know?"

Damon's smile grew larger, and Elena narrowed her eyes at him.

"You didn't compel her, did you?"

The older vampire faked shock at the inquiry. Compelling people was so not something he'd do, right? And what could he have gotten from Magdalena Haguenhauer, anyway? Beside the promise of a clean murder, or maybe some mind-blowing sex, considering she was Ric's cousin, but anyway.

"I'm so hurt you'd think something like that from me, of all people, Elena!"

The girl gave him a pointed look, and Damon threw his hands in the air, as if in defeat.

"No, seriously, I didn't compel her to murder the first hybrid she meets, though it could have been an idea... Kidding. But she might have overheard a conversation between Ariane and me, and I might have just told her the whole truth about her curse."

"Just her curse?"

"You're completely paranoid, Stefan. And yes, I might have also told her everything about us. You know, vampires, werewolves, hybrids, witches, grim reapers, and blablabla."

Anticipating his younger brother's reaction to that avowal, Damon ducked a glare and grabbed a cushion, which he put right before his face. As everybody knew, the cushions in the Salvatores' boarding house were Stefan-proof.

"Why did you do that?! What happened to secrecy, and all that?"

Damon's voice came out a bit muffled. The instructions for the Stefan-proof cushions were clear: the closer to the face of the assaulted one, the better a shield they were.

"I didn't really have a choice; it was telling her, or compelling her. And even if she didn't know it that way, Mag is a cursed woman. She's been deep in the supernatural since the moment she was born. And she currently lives in Mystic Falls, so it's not like she could remain oblivious to it all much longer."

Stefan sighed, and let himself fall in an armchair, soon joined by Elena. The younger Salvatore had offered her to stay at the boarding house for a time, now that the Gilbert house was void of any living presence.

"I guess it had to happen at some point..."

The three vampires spent a quiet afternoon, together, while Alaric watched over them with a small smile. From time to time, Damon would glance at him, and they'd share a calm tranquility with only their eyes. If Stefan and Elena noticed the older vampire's behavior, they didn't comment on it.

They spoke of what was happening lately, in Mystic Falls. Damon, outside of what he had been directly involved in, had not kept up with the latest "news", too busy brooding, amongst other things. Jeremy's death had been hard, because he had gotten... attached to the boy, but Damon hadn't cared about how the others had been affected. Elena told him about Bonnie's reaction, and though the older vampire tried to act unaffected, it didn't work very well. Caroline and Klaus were still dancing around each other, as it was, and Elijah had disappeared God knew where. Rebekah was still pestering Matt, who didn't seem to mind the attention all that much. Carol Lockwood was doing her best to calm her son, with the goal of not getting herself or him murdered by Klaus, once again. Liz Forbes and Bonnie's father, recently back into the game, and not for the witch's pleasure, were keeping watch over strange events, just in case Silas had really decided to come in town and create chaos, as Kol had claimed he would do before his demise.

Things weren't quiet in Mystic Falls, that was for sure. Then again, when were they quiet?

This evening, just this evening, the three vampires and the ghost pretended, not that all was right with the world, but that they weren't the first concerned.

When the afternoon came to an end, Damon and Stefan started cooking dinner, together. None of them needed to eat, but they needed to pretend they weren't completely different from the humans they had once been. They wanted one evening that went like it did for every other, normal person.

Even if they had a bottle of blood on the table, and one more glass each.

Elena took some time to herself, without anyone to fuel her anger after her brother's death. She did her best not to think about the impending doom that seemed to be her life, not to think about her hatred for Katherine, not to think about the pain that clutched at her heart, and that Stefan barely managed to soothe.

Alaric watched, as always, and he was happy. Despite everything, and in spite of his bitterness at not really being with them, the three vampires were managing. Damon didn't look at him for all the time he cooked, and that was great; it meant he lived not only in the past, but in the present as well. Stefan had come to term with his feeding issues, and was happy with Elena. Elena, though she was in pain, managed to get out of bed every morning, and she hadn't switched off her emotions, as she had threatened to do a few days before.

Alaric didn't really belong with the livings, or the undeads, and though it hurt to see them smile without him, it also made him happy. At least, they lived.

Later, Damon and Ric were alone in the vampire's room. Damon was frowning at the ghost.

"Why should you be the one most obvious in our couple name?"

" _Sorry?"_

"'Dalaric.'"

" _Oh. Well, unless you fancy 'Alamon', I'm keeping 'Dalaric'. And that way, you're first in our couple name, so don't complain."_

Damon seemed to think for a moment. Then, he shrugged.

"Not wrong."


	89. OWA, part 18: Ghosts

_4x22_

* * *

 _Sorry for the wait, but I was taking a break from writing ( more commonly called writer block, on another story )_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 18: Ghosts**

Alaric was keeping an eye on his cousin when it happened.

Magdalena turned around, and saw him. There was no question as to why she had frozen on the spot, staring at him as if he shouldn't be there, because he wasn't supposed to be there and visible. Ric felt it, too. It wasn't the same anymore.

He was present again. Not only a presence, but here. If he reached out to his cousin, and tried to touch her, he just knew he could feel her skin under his fingers. If he spoke, everyone would hear him. If Elizabeth Forbes, who was currently speaking with one of her deputies on the phone, looked in his direction, she would see him. Just as Magdalena did right now.

Mag tried to speak, but only a strangled sound passed her lips. The noise of the tempest outside covered that sound, and the sheriff didn't think of turning around, as she hadn't heard it.

A knot untied itself in Alaric's throat, and the ghost laughed nervously, but quietly.

" _The Veil has been dropped..."_

Bonnie had done it. The ghost wasn't sure why she had done it, but she had managed to do it... And it meant... It meant that all the vengeful spirits around Mystic Falls could wreck havoc however they wanted. It also meant that Silas had gotten what he wanted, or part of it at least.

Alaric gritted his teeth, as he came to a decision.

Gesturing for Magdalena to follow him, he found a discreet place where no one would notice that Alaric Saltzman was back in town, or worse, where no deputies would notice that a dead vampire was walking around again. He couldn't afford to be stopped now. Not right away, if anything.

The read head followed her deceased cousin without hesitation, but as soon as they were out of sight, she allowed herself to freak out.

"What the hell is going on here?! I thought you were dead!"

Ric hissed an answer between his teeth.

" _Of course I am. Eight times, if you want to be precise. I am a ghost, remember!"_

Residual anger crept up his spin, and before he knew it, the veins under his eyes had gone black, while his sclerae turned to red without his consent. Magdalena took a step back, not exactly scared by the vampire before her, but pretty shaken to see it happen to her cousin of all people. Alaric felt the change, and witnessed her reaction, so he forced himself to take a deep breath. His vampire features went back to their human state.

" _Right. Sorry for that. Now listen carefully: the Veil that stopped the dead on the Other Side to interact with the living fell down just a few minutes ago, that's why you can see me. And it's very bad news. I want you to speak with the sheriff, and the two of you to coordinate the sheriff department's actions. You will have a lot of dead supernatural beings in town, and not all of them will be kind. If one acts, kill them, and take the body to the clearing out of town, a few kilometers from the road. Liz will know. Someone will have to stay there, tie them up, and kill them again, and again, and again, because ghosts can't die."_

Mag blinked as she processed what he had just told her, but soon enough she was nodding. Killing dead people. Sure. No problem. She could do that.

"I'll take the first shift, then. Do you know how long it will take to have things back in order?"

Alaric's expression fell a bit, as he realized he would soon be back into ghostland, but he didn't let it affect him.

" _Not too long, I hope. That's why I can't take care of it myself: I have to see how to put the Veil back into place with the others."_

Magdalena understood that, but just as she was going to speak, the door of the empty room opened, revealing the sheriff. Liz Forbes' eyes zeroed on Alaric, and she almost choked out of surprise. Mag prevented that by patting her on the back and closing the door again behind the sheriff.

Ric gave the both of them an apologetic smile.

" _I trust you to do what needs to be done, Mag. And remember, no hesitation."_

He headed for the door, but turned one last time to look at the sheriff.

" _About what happened..."_

Elizabeth managed a smile, and waved him off. She hoped she was doing the right thing by letting him go, but she was being realistic; not only was the history teacher a ghost, and so impossible to kill, but he was an enhanced Original vampire. He could kill her in a single move if he wanted, and unless she soaked him with a full basket of vervain, there was no point in even trying to stop him. Even the sunlight was absent that day, courtesy of the supernatural storm above their heads.

"Damon explained what happened. It wasn't really you."

" _Sort of, I guess, but I am still sorry."_

The ghost left the two women together, knowing he couldn't have found two human more qualified for the job if he had had the time to search. He only hoped they would suffice, given the enormity of the task he had just given them.

He and the others needed to focus on the Silas problem, they didn't have much of a choice...

As he left the hospital, he crossed path with two nurses hurrying from an ambulance that had just arrived. A teenager had apparently been unlucky, and a tree, weakened by the storm, and fallen right upon his leg. The boy looked at him through the mist of pain.

"Mr Saltzman...? You're back in town..."

The ghost stopped, eyes fixed on the blood he could see, and smell, dripping off the boy's leg. Strangely, he wasn't feeling the thirst and the need to feed, but he guessed it was because he was still a ghost, even if he was corporeal.

" _Yeah, Samuel, I'm back."_

Ric frowned, wondering what exactly it meant about his abilities right now, as both a ghost and a vampire. He knew he couldn't teleport anymore, surely because he was corporeal as long as the Veil stayed down, or else he'd already be where Damon was. He could feel the unnatural strength his vampiric nature gave him, and he had a feeling he still had the superhuman speed, but the rest...

An idea came to him, and he grabbed the arm of the nearest nurse. The woman turned to look at him, about to lash out if needed, but he didn't let her go so far. Her eyes fell right into his, and she relaxed.

" _You won't remember what I'm about to do. In fact, you haven't seen me at all."_

The nurse repeated his orders with a dull tone, and Alaric knew he had successfully compelled her. That, at least, was still possible.

The other nurse looked up from her patient, to call her colleague for help, but she only stared into the ghost's eyes. He told her the very same thing, before turning to the teenager who was looking at him with big eyes. In an instant, Alaric compelled him too. Only then did he bite his left wrist and forced a bit of blood down the boy's throat.

The effects were quick. Ric held Samuel's leg into the right position, forcing the bones back in place, while his bood healed the other damages. The teenager strangled a scream, as he had been ordered to, for it hurt a lot, but before long he wasn't feeling as bad anymore. Completely dumbfounded, the boy stood up, and tried to walk.

He couldn't refrain a small cry when he leaned onto his formerly-broken leg.

" _Careful, Samuel. Your leg is still weak, so you'd rather not force on it like that. Go inside, and stay there until the storm ends, alright?"_

"I won't go out until the end of the storm."

Alaric winced at the dull tone, no less convinced compulsion wasn't the right way to do it, but he ignored the slightly guilty feeling in his chest.

The ghost turned to look at the street, and smiled grimly.

" _So the compulsion works, and my blood is efficient, eh? I guess I have all my vampiric powers, and weaknesses too. The only ghostly point being, I can't be killed definitely..."_

Not that it changed anything, considering he wasn't a regular vampire, and the ways to kill him definitely were surely scarce and difficult to find. But at least, he still didn't need to feed... That was a plus.

And he left the hospital in a blur. Two nurses and a teenager were wondering what exactly had happened during the last minutes, but they would not find an answer anytime soon.

Of course, things didn't go so simply, even after he left the hospital.

As running at high speed could easily become disconcerting, especially for a vampire like him, who hadn't had much time to get used to it, Ric stopped here and there, to get a clearer look at his current location. He knew Damon and the others had left for the high school, and it almost made him laugh, how everything seemed to remind him of his life, even the place where Bonnie was doing her witchy things. It wouldn't take him long to get to the school, but even with vampire speed, it'd take a few minutes.

About halfway there, the ghost stopped at a crossroad...

And three ghosts were there, almost snarling at him. The teacher rolled his eyes, recognizing them to be some of the vampires he had slain since he had taken the mantle of vampire hunter, arriving in Mystic Falls. Sure, they were dead, so he couldn't ask if they had a death wish, but still... They had to know he could take them on easily, right?

" _You are not getting away, hunter!"_

Maybe they were a bit slow on the uptake. Maybe they hadn't been around when his alter-ego had gotten himself, meaning, him too, transformed into a super vampire. Maybe they simply didn't care.

" _Do we really have to do this?"_

A female vampire sneered at him, and the two others followed her lead.

" _Oh yes, we have to! None of us appreciated being staked, you know, and we will make you regret it."_

Ric muttered under his breath.

" _Believe me, I already do..."_

One of the ghosts blurred to him, fist ready for impact, but the enhanced Original simply took a step back. Then he punched the attacker so hard the guy's head almost flew off his neck. What was certain, was that his neck broke, but since a broken neck didn't take that much time to get back into place, the hunter decided to do more.

In the blink of an eye, Ric was right before the still-flying / not-completely-fallen-yet body, one hand on the head, the other on the ghost's neck. He twisted hard, and the head fell on the ground... but not in the same place as the rest of the body.

The ghost of the hunter rubbed his hands, a pleased smile on his lips. One ghost out of three, now out for some time.

...Even if Alaric had no idea how much time it actually was. No ghost-friendly manual in sight.

If he was lucky, it could be for a few hours. After all, getting one's head back had to be longer than simply undoing a twisted, but still attached, neck.

Then he turned to look at the two others ghosts, who didn't disappoint him in the least. Not a second later, the two of them were at his throat...

Or tried to be at his throat.

Ric swept their legs off the ground with a sigh. They fell hard, head against the ground, and the female one bled a bit from the head, even if it healed right away. They were still conscious, though.

He ripped out the male's heart, and pressed a foot against the female's throat.

" _How the freaking hell did you..."_

She couldn't finish her sentence, the pressure on her windpipe getting stronger the moment she began to speak. Alaric smiled, but it looked more like a grimace, truth to be told.

" _News update, sweetie, only supernatural beings go to the Other Side after their death. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't been a vampire when I died. Moreover, I was already a cursed man, with the best killing instincts on the market, before that, and I was turned by the Original witch, who made me even stronger than the other Originals. You are waaaay out of your league, going after me..."_

He drawled that last part, feeling the anger he had kept at bay during his time as a ghost about to break out. Now that he could actually interact with the world, the hunter didn't feel like keeping it in anymore.

" _Besides, I'm pissed off right now."_

And he crushed her neck savagely.

Ric watched the bodies with contempt for a time, but finally decided he'd better call Magdalena. If he was lucky, the sheriff department could come and collect the bodies before the ghosts came back to themselves. He wasn't fancying having to deal with them, again.

" _So, back to business. I'm pretty sure Damon needs someone to save his ass, right now..."_


	90. OWA, part 19: It had actually happened

_Sorry for the wait, but I'm kind of... Off-schedule, I guess? for the holidays. Especially since I'm working for all of July and August, 4 days a week. It's my first summer job, and well... Anyway. It doesn't ean I won't post, only, I'm literally not following any kind of schedule until september, for all of my fics._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 19:** **It had actually happened**

Damon winced as he pulled himself back up. He wasn't sure why it had happened, but the dull feeling in his gut, the way everything was still a bit fuzzy around him, and, most obviously, the fact that he was currently sprawled out in a corridor of the local high school, instead of being, oh, you know, chasing the oldest monster around... All those facts made it pretty clear that indeed, it had happened.

No matter how ridiculous it sounded, it had actually happened.

The vampire winced painfully, as he struggled to, at least, sit up. Not that he didn't like the cold feeling of the floor against his left cheek, of course. He just had more important things to do.

Such as keeping Elena from getting murdered by Katherine, or worse, by Silas.

Damon kind of liked Elena, after all. She was like that annoying little sister, who is sometimes annoying, but well, figures, it's in the job description, and that he just couldn't manage not to care about. Moreover, Stefan was finally becoming less uptight... Would the word be "uploose", then? No, certainly not. Where was his mind going, again?

Right. Vervain shot. He wasn't losing it... Loosing it... Argh! Only the after effects of being shot full of vervain by Elena, surely.

Because, yes, that was it, the right train of thought, just here, he could do it! So, because what had happened previously, leading to him being sprawled out on the floor like that, was that Elena's anger at Katherine had finally gotten the best out of her, and the young vampire had recklessly concluded she'd go and beat the older doppelganger to a pulp. And to do that, Elena had shot Damon full of vervain, forgetting that they were here to deal with Silas before anything else.

Under normal circumstances, Damon would be all for beating Katherine to a pulp, he had to admit. But the Immortal going around and killing people was enough of a problem for now. And Katherine was like, five times stronger than Elena in sheer strenght, and much more experienced. And did he say he didn't appreciate to be vervained, again?

It hurt, damn it!

The vampire took a deep breath, feeling more an more clear-headed. Good, it was all coming back to him. The vervain was loosing its effects. Great. Soon, he'd be able to stand up.

Damon tried to stand up. The world waltzed around him.

Right. Soon, not now. Soon wasn't yet. Soon was soon. So he'd just... stay here, sitting on the floor, for now. Breathing in, breathing out... Hoping Elena wouldn't get herself killed while he regained his bearings... Hoping no one, except Silas and perhaps Katherine, would get killed in the meantime because he needed a few more seconds of rest.

He didn't blame Elena, truly, though he was a bit angry at her nonetheless. The girl had barely reigned in her urge to turn off her humanity, after Jeremy's death, and with all the other things her doppelganger had done previously... It wasn't exactly surprising that Elena had snapped.

Damon would just have liked it better if she hadn't snapped this very day, and say, tomorrow instead?

Just as he was having these thoughts, the vampire's hearing picked up something coming towards him. Damon froze, and kept himself from breathing, something he could actually do if he focused hard enough, but that was still very uncomfortable. He didn't want to alert whoever was coming to his presence, especially since he couldn't really defend himself in this state. Hell, he couldn't even stand on his own feet, so defending himself? Fighting? Not gonna happen.

Footsteps.

Those were footsteps. And the person to whom these footsteps belonged was definitely coming in his very direction. Intentionally or not, the person would soon get to him, and, unless Damon managed to crawl all the way to the next door in the following minute, which seemed very unlikely, the person would see him, helpless and easily taken care of.

Because let's be realistic, there was no way the person was just a random kid who had decided to break into the school when there wasn't school. No teenager should be that much of a masochist. And even if some were, in Mystic Falls, people who ended up in places they shouldn't be usually died a terrible and undeserved death. Especially when a bunch of supernatural beings were playing tag in that same place. So either this was an ally, and Damon would never hear the end of it when they'd find him, or this was an enemy, and Damon was screwed.

The footsteps stopped only a handful of meters away from the place where the yet-unknown person would be able to see him. The vampire tensed.

Waiting.

Which one was waiting for the other, he could not tell. Was he waiting for the unknow man / vampire / whatever-suited-the-guy,-even-considering-that-it-might-not-be-a-guy, or was the unknown person waiting for him? Who would reveal themselves first, Damon, or the possible enemy? Would the person walk into view first, or would the vampire breathe a tad too loudly, would his heart beat a bit too fast? Would he see, or would he be heard first?

Was he going to die?

No, Damon was totally not panicking. Absolutely not. It wasn't as if a handful of people wanted him dead, for good reasons, and a number of other people wanted him dead just because. Not at all.

It was not the time for his heart to start beating like that! Maybe it was because of the vervain shot, but nonetheless. It wasn't the right time for him to go all scared-little-boy. The vampire could have sworn his heartbeat could be heard from the other side of the school, perhaps even from underground. Louder. Louder! Louder! Loud enough that anyone, even a simple human being, could tell he was here. And as he grew more scared that his heart would betray him, it got worse...

It was the vervain, it was the ver...

Damon didn't hear the footsteps resuming, so focused on his own uncontrolled fear as he was.

But he definitely heard the voice. Mocking him gently. Mocking him, yes, but lovingly.

The vampire's head snapped up, despite the haze he still was in.

Eyes met.

Something wet rolled down one of his cheeks, and tumbled on his lips clumsily. It tasted of salt.

Alaric crouched down, and the ghost's fingers trailed the path taken by the tear. Ric had a small grin on his face, almost full of himself, Damon could tell. But it wasn't what mattered.

What mattered was that the vampire had felt his lover's touch. The dampness left by the tear had disappeared, taken away by the skin of the supposedly-dead hunter. The supposedly-ghostly hunter. The hunter he had been unable to actually touch for months. The man... or, rather, vampire, now, the vampire he loved.

He could feel his touch. He could...

" _Did you miss me, perhaps?"_

There was still something otherworldly to his voice, as if they weren't completely on the same plane of existence, but Alaric was indeniably here. Corporeal. As he hadn't been in months.

"Don't flatter yourself. Elena vervained me, and I'm a mess. That's all, buddy. I'm not crying for you."

The ghost seemed amused for a moment.

" _Right, I believe you. But I believe we have an Immortal to hunt, don't we? Speaking of which, was it really Elena? Silas seems to be able to impersonate just anyone."_

"Oh, it was her. She just learned Katherine was around, and well, she... snapped, I guess. If she had been Silas, I'd be dead, not vervained..."

Realizing what he had just said really meant, Damon froze again. How could he have been so...!

Ric helped him up, but the older vampire now had a strange glint in his eyes, and he stood a bit more stiffly than what was usual for his laid-back attitude. If the ghost hadn't know any better, he'd have said Damon was even schifting away from him ever so slowly.

Which was completely ridiculous, right?

" _Damon...?"_

The vampire squinted at the ghost, bracing himself for utter disappointment.

"You're Silas, aren't you? That's why I could feel you. You're not actually a ghost."

Alaric blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

" _The... The Veil, Damon. Bonnie dropped it. That's why I'm corporeal. I am your Alaric."_

The hunter heard Damon's heart miss a beat, but he also saw the vampire take a step back, unbelieving. His own heart, as dead as it was, felt suddenly crushed. His smile melted, and he took a step towards his Damon.

The vampire staggered a bit, and found himself with his back against the high school lockers.

Ric felt really cold, all of a sudden. Damon... Damon, once again, wasn't allowing himself to hope.

But the cold turned warm, and hot, and burning, and anger seized the hunter. His features hardened, and his face almost turned scary.

Damon flinched again, as if that had just confirmed his suspicions, but before he could say anything, two arms blocked him against the lockers.

Alaric, his hands firmly pressed against the metal, looked his lover right in the eyes, right in the soul, as some would say. The frightening look on his face disappeared, but he still looked grave, and, maybe, a bit dangerous. Only, not so terrifying anymore.

It wasn't his goal, after all.

Damon couldn't say anything. His brain hadn't gone down, yet, but his control over his body certainly had. Only Ric's warm breath seemed to be enough, to shut down all physical reactions. And the vampire had no idea how to reboot it.

Not that it was his main concern, for now.

His main concern took the form of one very attractive, very corporeal, very... hardening... history teacher / hunter / Original vampire, Alaric J. Saltzman, boyfriend extraordinaire. And, once again, supposedly dead. And, though it wasn't something Damon liked to think about, possibly being currently impersonated by one freaking witchy Immortal.

Murderously so, the witchy Immortal.

So, Silas or not-Silas, that was the question.

Personally, Damon was all for not-Silas, but since when was life fair with him, or even slightly obliging?

Again, if that was Silas, and not Alaric, the bastard was trying very hard to convince the vampire that he wasn't who he was... Damon mused as two lips drew closer and closer to his own. Very, very hard. Seducingly hard.

Speaking of hardness...

Ric kissed his loved one with caution, at first. Only being able to feel it, again, lips against lips, breath against breath, warmth against warmth... It was slowly drowning the accumulated anger that had been plaguing him since the Veil had been dropped. He had a feeling it wouldn't be permanent, and that as soon as they'd get separated, it would build up again, but well, he took what he could.

And apparently, he was being offered more than he had first feared.

Damon, despite his disbelief, was definitely responding. They were almost stuck together at that point, and a sly grin pulled at the ghost's lips when he felt something twitch against his thigh. Something that wasn't his.

Immediately, the kiss went from cautious to passionate, Ric broke his lover's resistance with his tongue, and his hands left the lockers to get a better hold of Damon himself. The vampire moaned a bit, even if he would outright deny it later on, and the "something" that had twitched just before suddenly sprang into life. Alaric definitely witnessed his boyfriend blushing crimson, between his lashes, and his decision was made.

That was not something Silas would have done, even for the sake of impersonation... He hoped so.

Dropping to his knees, he quickly opened Damon's fly, his eyes dark with lust as the vampire's cock, as hard as can be, was revealed, for him only. His lips stayed for an instant on the head, as if contemplating how to proceed from here, but it only lasted an instant. What happened then was another story. A story that made Damon melt once more, and hope again.

Still, because he was Damon freaking Salvatore, he managed to gasp, between two groans.

"If you eventually prove to be Silas, I am so going to remember this and hate you forever."

Alaric preferred not to point out that the vampire already hated Silas, and possibly forever too. Instead, he chose to act with maturity for the two of them, since Damon apparently was unable to do it for himself.

In other words, the ghost tried to growl an outraged _"Damon!"_ in annoyance. But his mouth was already quite busy otherwise, so it cannot be said if the vampire heard him or not.


	91. OWA, part 20: Echoes

**One world apart, part 20: Echoes**

When the two finally decided it was more than an emergency to stop playing around, and go in search of Silas, Damon still had some difficulties standing. Or, more accurately, he could stand just fine, but the world was still a bit wibbly wobbly around him, and it impeded his capacity to defend himself. It didn't prevent him from standing on his own feet, though. It wasn't all that bad...

If someone asked, it was totally because of the vervain, and certainly not because of some previous, erm, amorous activities. Nothing of the sort could make Damon feel weak at the knees. Nothing!

Of course, the vervain was a big part of the problem. But let it not be said that it wasn't the only reason to the problem. The vampire forbade it, and his boyfriend simply rolled his eyes. Sometimes, not bothering to argue with Damon was just the easiest choice.

Though, against a guy who couldn't die and could make perfect illusions out of his magic, being able to defend oneself or not might not matter so much.

They were screwed anyway.

But, on the bright side, it wasn't the first time the residents of Mystic Falls thought they were screwed, and look at them! They were still here! Alive!

...Well, mostly alive.

"Alright, buddy, let's go and hunt an Immortal!"

Damon staggered a bit, but bravely decided to ignore his passing weakness. Damon Salvatore was never weak, and that was it. Even when he was, he wasn't. Why? Because he had decided so, duh!

Alaric watched the vampire with vague amusement. When it became obvious that no matter what the idiot said, there was definitely something weakening him, possibly the residual vervain from that previous shot, the ghost decided there was no point waiting for his boyfriend to stop his denial.

Ric bit directly into his own wrist, and joined Damon with two long strides.

The vampire was about to ask why it smelled of blood, all of a sudden, but he was yanked backwards before the words could leave his mouth. His ice-colored eyes grew wide for an instant.

But he didn't fall on the floor. Instead, the back of his head bumped lightly against something, no, someone's chest. Also, an arm kind of... slithered?, to his own chest, before pulling him into some sort of strange... hug?

And then he felt the warm feeling of blood on his lips.

Damon wasn't sure as to what was happening exactly, but he found that he didn't care right now. Weakened as he was, that is, not so much, but just enough for him to feel it nonetheless, even a few drops of blood could make him feel better. His lips moved on their own, and before he knew it, his tongue was licking the already-closing wound dry, searching for the smallest amount of blood.

Warm, warm blood.

Blood that he knew. Blood that he had already tasted in the past. Blood that he had already savoured once upon a time.

And still, not exactly the same blood as that first time. Not as... human, as before. Different. Warm, but colder yet, than before. Pleasant, nonetheless.

When he was certain there was nothing left for him to suck, or, at least, nothing of that particular nature for him to suck, the vampire tilted his head backwards, just a little, just enough.

Enough to see the blue of Alaric's eyes looking back at him. Enough to see a soft, yet amused, smile on the ghost's lips. Enough to say the hunter had appreciated it at least as much as he himself had.

" _You're feeling better?"_

Well, now that Ric mentioned it...

Damon squinted at the ghost, taking in the found-again neatness of the world. He certainly had no issue staring at the few and pale lashes of his lover.

"Totally. But, won't you sharing your blood just now worsen your own thirst? I don't think you took the time to feed on the way, and you certainly didn't take anything since the day you... You know."

" _Still a ghost, Damon. I don't have needs, even if I can eat or drink again, now that I am corporeal. So it's in everyone's interest that I give you some of my blood. Because I wouldn't appreciate it if you got yourself killed by Silas."_

An awkward silence succeeded that statement. There was no need to point out that Damon could still be killed, that at some point the Veil would be back in place and Ric would disappear off this realm once again, and that they were going after a very powerful monster. There was no need, as always, to point out their respective weaknesses. They knew them too well as it was. They had been confronted to these weaknesses too many times. Taunted with them. Hurt by them.

And some times, killed by them.

They weren't going to forget them anytime soon.

When they reached the caves under the high school, the ghost thought of splitting up, but Damon snatched his left arm, not keen on letting Alaric out of his sight.

" _Damon, I don't think this will be the most efficient way to..."_

"'Don't care. Besides, that way you can protect me from the Wicked Witch of the West. You are kind of indestructible, and you can't die as you're already deader than dead. It's not my case, if you'll remember, so stick with me."

Ric didn't find it in him to protest much more, only letting out a weak _"But..."_ which didn't get him anywhere, in the end.

So instead of splitting up, the two stayed together as they walked in the dimly lit caves. Alaric still wasn't sure why they hadn't been sealed off, at least on the side of the school, because, really, who knew what could happen down here to an adventurous teenager who didn't know better than to explore the possibly-secret-awesome-bat-cave under their high school? But well, here they were, and here they shall remain, though hopefully not for too long, until they found the Immortal Bastard. And hopefully too, they wouldn't only "find" him, but also "deal" with him. Like, definitely. For real. And... Well, you know, it was all hope, but still.

Bonnie surely had a plan, when she decided to get rid of the Veil. She surely didn't do it only for the fun of the thing, right? Nor was she likely to have done it to please Silas, either. So it only let two options: the young witch had a plan... or she was desperate.

And they were all screwed.

Why did that thought seem disturbingly familiar, again?

Eventually the two vampires, even if, once again, one was technically both ghost and vampire at the moment, wait, did that make him an hybrid of some sort, at least for the time he was corporeal?, anyway, the two heard the echoes of voices.

They shared a worried glance, and hurried on.

What they found when they reached the two voices was totally not unsettling... Right, who were they kidding? It was so perturbing Damon almost lost it for a second and didn't realize right away who the hadnsome devil, no, wait, the fake Alaric strangling his brother before Elena's and Bonnie's eyes was.

Ric, on the other, didn't falter at all. Being a Falkenbach had its perks, once in a while. Those simply didn't balance out the drawbacks for them to be even considered, most of the time.

But here, right now, it was a good thing.

The hunter was simply cool-headed, despite the scene he was now witnessing.

Stefan's head finally snapped, and the vampire's body collapsed to the ground. Fake-Alaric's eyes turned away from Elena as he spotted the shocked expression on the two girls' faces. Identical blue eyes met each others, but the two Rics didn't react in the same way at all.

If anything, Alaric stood more stiffly and his face looked sterner than ever, but he was still cool-headed. Preparing himself to move anytime, perhaps.

Fake-Alaric, on the other hand, seemed to reveal in the others' shock. He didn't grin or smirk as Klaus would have, but the lazy smile on his lips felt more sinister than before, and without really moving his borrowed features or anything, he still managed to look more dangerous...

To look more like Ric's alter-ego, the hunter realized.

So that was what Silas had been up to, these last minutes.

Impersonating him in his darkest hours, in the hope of making the girls believe that, perhaps, it wasn't Silas, but truly Evilaric, released by the dropping of the Veil, and ready to go back to his task. That there was no hope of any sort left, since in spite of dealing with the Immortal, they'd have to deal with the deranged Original too.

"Well, look who's joining this little party! Damon Salvatore and Alaric Saltzman! Only Caroline Forbes is missing at that point, but I suggest we don't wait for her. Especially since dear sweet Caroline is currently busy cutting her hands off. We wouldn't want to disturb the girl, right?"

Immediately after that little speech, the Immortal made both Bonnie and Damon choke on nothing, just because he could. Just because he liked to prove his power over other people, especially those opposing him so fiercely.

Silas didn't target Elena, though, for a reason that was obvious to him only, and also because the young vampire seemed a bit worse off her fight with her doppelganger, and wouldn't be much help anyway.

And Silas didn't target Alaric, because he assumed, wrongly as it was, but he assumed nonetheless, that seeing himself hurting his friends after all that had happened with his psychopathic alter-ego would disturb the ghost enough as it was.

How wrong he was!

Certainly, Ric didn't like the fact that his friends were hurting, right now. It angered him, even.

But it being done with his face? He couldn't care less. He was a cursed man, and this little illusion was far from enough to make him lose view of the reality under the illusion. There was no way he could relate to what was happening, no way it could affect him as Silas thought it would, because he was a Falkenbach. Killing was his nature, his purpose, his truth in life. And fighting was the way to achieve killing, in this case. Nothing could impede his too-rational mind less than someone pretending to be him and more or less reneacting even something he felt truly guilty about.

That thing, right before him, that monster who had gone after those he cared for too many times, it wasn't him. It was Silas. It was the enemy. The appearance he had chosen to sport held no deeper meaning to the ghost's subconscious, and he could easily shut down the part of his concious that he usually used to ensure he was at least pretending to be normal; to react as a normal person would.

Silas was the Enemy, and that was enough. He having Ric's looks at the moment would not hinder the hunter's capability to judge the situation.

It meant nothing to the cursed man.

Damon and Bonnie choking on the ground, on the other hand...

The ghost walked slowly, calmly to his fake-self, and stopped only a foot away from Silas. You could say that they were looking eye to eye, if not seeing so, on that matter.

As expressionless as usual, Ric's empty gaze drilled right into Silas'.

There was a moment of silence, before the ghost spoke, very matter-of-factly.

" _Impressive. The inhumanity in the eyes, the dull emptiness of my soul is very convincing."_

The Immortal was a bit taken aback at the words, but he couldn't manage to say anything at this point, because Alaric had gripped his throat so forcefully the ghost's fingers were now digging through the skin. Before Silas knew it, half his neck was being thrown away, against a wall, leaving him with only a gaping hole in his throat.

" _But this inhumanity that is mine... It cannot be convinced of anything. It isn't humane enough to be convinced. Your trick is not enough."_

Bonnie and Damon were back on their feet, shaking a bit. Silas' hold upon them had slipped away in the Immortal's surprise. Elena had grabbed Stefan's unmoving body, and taken her boyfriend out of physical harm's reach, if not magical. They watched and listened to Alaric's voice, to the coldness in his tone, and once again they were reminded of how dangerous he had been as a human, of how dangerous he had become as an enhanced Original vampire.

Maybe Silas was worse, but it wasn't him they feared at the moment.

Soon enough, the Immortal's throat was whole once again.

"Ever so, you cannot kill me for all your strenght, abomination."

And the form of Alaric Saltzman wavered into that of a slightly smaller person with black hair and ice-blue eyes. Damon felt himself tense at the sight, too vividly reminded of another time when...

Then Ric smiled a bit. A freezing smile, perhaps, but a smile nonetheless.

" _Maybe I cannot. But Bonnie sure can incapacitate you, if I keep you occupied long enough."_

Silas only managed to hide his face as he turned back into stone.


	92. OWA, part 21: This was going to be messy

_Well, my summer job has ended, I'm back to school... Hopefully I'll update regularly again_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 21: This was going to be messy**

Damon had just been threatened by the dead ghost of a vampire he had previously killed, and yes, her name was Lexi, which simply wasn't supposed to happen in the grand scheme of life / unlife / whatever,-even-the-supernatural-side-of-the-world-wasn't-that- cracked-usually, but he didn't care.

Or, obviously he was concerned that Bonnie hadn't managed to put the Veil back into place and that a few dozens of vengeful ghostly beings were hanging out in Mystic Falls, but it still seemed a bit dull of a problem when he thought back to the previous night he had spent with Ric, who was supposedly dead too.

He'd have done without being threatened by Lexi, but as Alaric had told him before leaving to grab something to eat with Elena and Jeremy at the cemetery, Damn certainly had deserved it. Hell, he was surprised he hadn't been killed by the blonde already.

Not that, considering the current circumstances, it'd have changed much right away. Dead or not, Damon would have stayed present to grate on Lexi's nerves.

Damn, they had to find a way to drop back the Veil...

Even if it meant Ric would be physically gone, again.

Luckily for Damon, the doorbell rang before the vampire's heart could clench so much it would probably be reduced to ashes.

Unluckily for him, the sight waiting for him on the other side of the door wasn't one he was happy to see.

Vaughn.

Damn. So, supernatural hunters counted as supernatural beings? He should have seen that one coming, considering Alaric and Elena were eating with Van Helsing Junior in a graveyard right now. Stupid Damon.

Let's just hope cursed men didn't count as supernatural beings as supernatural hunters did, because Damon did not want to have to deal with Theodoric Saltzman again on top of everything else.

Eitherway, things happened, as they were meant to. Or maybe not, but how would the vampire be able to tell? He had yet to find the Book of Destiny, thank you very much.

Things being, Vaughn was a bit pissed at having been left to starve on the island, Vaughn wanted both the Cure and Silas, and Vaughn had a frigging wood-loaded-gun with him.

Since when were ghosts allowed to have weapons? That was clearly cheating, since they couldn't die definitely!

The hunter almost shot the vampire, and Damon found himself catching his breath when the ghost bursted out of his field of vision and landed on the lawn, a few metters away from the door.

Wait, what?

Damon blinked, his sight suddenly invaded by something... red.

His brain rebooted, and why had it disconnected itself in the first place, really?, and the vampire recognized the nature of the red thing clutching onto him. Hell, the red thing had a heartbeat. An erratic heartbeat. And the red thing had a well developped chest, if what he felt pressing against his arm was anything to go by. The red thing seemed very familiar, all of a sudden.

Like, the red thing was a woman. The red thing was a friend. The red thing was Magdalena.

And the red thing smelled of blood.

Now that Damon's brain had successfully reconnected, the vampire could appreciate the fact that Magdalena Haguenhauer was bleeding on him while Vaughn was getting back on his feet.

He wasn't exactly sure how everything had ended up that way, but he sure as hell didn't want it to go souther than it already was. Apparently Mag had spared him a gun wound, and he guessed she had ended up wounded instead. He certainly wasn't going to let that sacrifice go to waste. He wasn't that kind of psychopathic vampire.

And he didn't want to be the one to tell Ric he had gotten his cousin killed, too.

Then again, this time either he didn't get to do anything about Vaughn, and damn, what was it with him today? Was it because he had gotten laid the night before, after many, many nights of nothing? Had it made him lax? Or was it because he was becoming a loser?

Damon kind of hoped it was the latter, surprisingly, because he sure as hell didn't want to forget about sex with his boyfriend... Not that it would be an issue for long.

Before he could become more depressed than he already was, the vampire turned to look at his younger brother while still holding Magdalena tight, just in case.

Stefan looked up from the bleeding heart in his hand, and damn, wasn't that appropriate?, and turned his attention back on the older vampire.

"You're welcome."

Damon winced a thankful smile.

"Thanks, as always, brother dearest."

Stefan rolled his eyes, but soon enough a moan ended their antics, and the two brothers were looking at Mag. Who wasn't as passed out as Damon had first believed.

They caried her inside.

Lexi joined the two vampires and the injured Falkenbach with a frown on her face.

" _Well, you can say I'm impressed. I had barely seen her arriving that she was round kicking that guy away from you, bastard. I wish you weren't so lucky."_

"Wait, so you saw what happened?"

" _Obviously. He already had a finger on the trigger, and being kicked in the head might have slightly unfocused him. That's why the shot went off. Look at her leg."_

Stefan took a deep breath, and actually looked at the bloody wound that they should already have examined. Damon watched him, a bit anxious as to his reaction to the scent of human blood, but there was nothing to worry about. Sure, Stefan still wasn't comfortable with blood around, but he wouldn't jump at anyone's throat any time soon. He could handle himself.

The vampires looked at the wound through the torn fabric of Mag's pants, and winced.

This was gross. And it had to hurt a lot. And it'd be a bitch to get out. Damon didn't envy Magdalena, right now. Never to shoot a human being with a wood bullet, duly noted.

Brown flickered between the Falkenbach's partly parted lashes, and the oldest vampire in the room caught sight of the woman's awareness.

Lexi bit her lower lip, and sat down next to the woman.

" _Alright, this will hurt a lot, but I absolutely have to get the bullet shards out of your thigh before we can even think about healing you. I don't think you want shards in your leg anymore than I want to see Stefan in drag."_

Magdalena chuckled at the randomness, while Stefan looked a bit offended. Then the woman winced in pain.

"Just do it. I can deal with pain easily."

After all, just like Alaric, Mag Haguenhauer was a Saltzman, in curse if not in name. Cursed to withstand pain through any ordeal, as long as it had a point. Cursed and able to go past suffering if there was a goal in sight. Here, preserving her health, because she was pretty sure the human body wasn't meant to host any wooden parts.

Pain was not a confortable state of being, obviously. But she could ignore it without trouble.

Lexi nodded, and glared at the boys to turn around and not look as she took off the other woman's pants. She was not going to dig into flesh through the hole in the pants. And the boys had no business looking. Especially since they were both taken.

Once Lexi was certain no Salvatore sibling could see, she did her best to relieve the red head of her pants without moving the injured leg too much. Once that done, she flexed her fingers, and took a deep breath. She wasn't used to doing this on someone else than herself, and on someone who did not heal magically afterwards either.

This was going to be messy.

Stefan and Damon did their best not to peak, even when they heard the squeeshish sounds of...

Anyway.

Even if they were worried for Magdalena, they weren't supposed to look, so they wouldn't look.

It wasn't as if Lexi could literally butcher the lawyer's leg with a wrong move, right?

Oh hell! Just what was that sound?

Eventually the oldest vampire sighed, and took out the three freaking bits of bullet. She put them in a small cup that one of the boys had brought.

A critical eye to the wound and to the blatant lack of color on her patient's face told her everything she needed to know.

Lexi bit her own wrist to the point of bleeding, and forced it against the woman's face. The red head almost threw up at the contact, not because of the coppery taste, but simply because her stomach was behaving strangely for some totally obvious reason that she'd rather not think about. Still, Lexi finally saw the gapping wound close a bit after a minute, so it had to mean the other female had to have drank her blood, if only a bit of it.

The vampire took back her wrist, bit back into it because the wound had already closed, and offered it again to the wounded woman.

Magdalena seemed a bit wary of her at first, but maybe she was just weary of it all, with a "e", because, damn, it wasn't everyday someone had to search your flesh for a split wooden bullet, especially not when you were human.

It took another minute, but by then the gross mess in the woman's thigh had gone away and into oblivion. Mag was still white as a ghost, or, considering Lexi was in the room and not that light as to her skin tone, whiter than a ghost in particular, and her pants were obviously ruined with blood and a gap in the fabric, but hell. She was alright.

Not healthy, but alright.

She wouldn't try to stand up right away, though.

Lexi stood up and took a step back, grinning faintly.

"Et voilà! _'Twas but a flesh wound."_

Mag arched an eyebrow at her, but a smile still tugged at her lips.

"Obviously."

It was the moment Damon chose to make his presence known again by clearing his throat rather soundly.

"All is well in wonderland, but, girls, what do we do now?"

And he pointed at the for-now-deader-than-dead body of Vaughn, who presented a great view on the lawn just outside the boarding house from where they were positioned in said boarding house.

Stefan glanced at the body, and back at his brother.

"Find a way to keep him dead, I'd say."

For some reason, taken over by a short case of hysteria perhaps, Damon waggled his eyebrows at his brother.

"Stefan, I said 'girls', so unless you didn't tell me something important all these years... Though that might explain why Elena was not interested in me and rather in you despite all my efforts. You know, if you're secretly a girl, and she's a les..."

"Damon."

Stefan was giving his brother a long-suffering glare.

Wonder why.

"Be serious please."

Lexi chose that moment to pop into the conversation.

" _Actually, Damon, Stefan is..."_

Another long-suffering glare. This time aimed at the female vampire.

"Please, for the sake of our firendship, Lexi, don't."

Lexi only shrugged.

It was Magdalena who spoke up next, giving an answer to the original question. The bantering had been sympathic enough, but they had to deal with the dead body on the lawn, didn't they?

"Concerning the ghost... Alaric told us, the sheriff and me, to bring any dead-dead ghost to a clearing outside of town. I was just coming back from my guard duty when I saw him attack you, Damon. The sheriff Forbes must be still be there, beheading whoever needs to be beheaded."

Stefan nodded, Damon sounded impressed, and they decided to bring Vaughn to the clearing right away. As for Lexi, she was sniffing the wooden bullet with a disgusted look on her face.

" _Damn, Damon, you bastard, you really got lucky. Those things reek of werewolf venom."_


	93. OWA, part 22: The hunters of the Five an

_Meanwhile, with Alaric._

* * *

 _Did you miss my gruesome and morbid descriptions of blood dripping monsters?!_  
 _*NOOOOO!*_  
 _Too bad, you're getting them anyway._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 22: The hunters of the Five and C4**

Alaric ran as fast as he could to the Mystic Grill, anger clouding his judgment a little. In less than a minute, he'd be there, but for now he wasn't, and he did not trust Connor Jordan not to pass time by slaughtering a few innocents. The guy might have been human, but he had had no claim using baits, as the episode with April Young had proven already. And at the time the guy had only been obsessed with getting rid of every vampire he met.

Now it as worse. Jordan had a litteral mission, now. To get rid of Silas.

Normally it wouldn't be a plan Ric would have a problem with, considering the Immortal was a major ass and a murderous bastard with overcheated powers. But as it was, they had already taken care of Silas. There was no need getting rid of him again. And, once more, Alaric was against the idea of collateral damage.

And to top it all, Jordan wanted his revenge on Elena.

Why couldn't the girl have a normal life, for once? Just, you know, a normal graduation ceremony with her friends after having lunch with her surrogate father?

Oh wait, because Elena was a vampire and a doppelganger, most of her friends were supernatural beings and / or dead, one not excluding the other, her kind-of-father-in-law was a dead Original vampire, and the town of Mystic Falls was suffering from a ghost invasion.

Alaric blurred into presence right outside the Mystic Grill. He could see Connor sitting at the bar, which made him grit his teeth.

Right... Anger management. He was good at that. Usually. When he hadn't spent half a year not being able to act and protect those who needed to be protected. Those he cared for.

So, not right now.

Still, he had practice, and he forced a casual smile onto his face.

He entered the Grill, and returned a wave from a student who was eating there and seemed very surprised to see him back in town. He headed directly to Connor Jordan, though.

Ric sat down next to the hunter, and considered tearing him into halves without a trial, but he had to admit it would be messy if he did it here, in public. He really enjoyed imagining it, though.

There was a short conversation, which turned moot the moment the other ghost admitted to having planted bombs on himself. Ric wasn't amused.

Jordan didn't get to dwell on it, though, even if he saw the vampire's face going from joking to cold-enough-to-give-him-chills. Before the hunter could do anything the vampire had grabbed his wrist with indomitable strength and the world blurred. The man wasn't sure how strong the vampire was, but he certainly was stronger than any monster he had ever met. Even with his own enhanced strength as a member of the Brotherhood of the Five, he couldn't even struggle.

So Jordan triggered the explosives. He had no idea if he was still in the Grill or not, because that surely must have been what it felt like to be moved from spot by a vampire at full speed, but he sure as hell was going to take the bastard out with him. Because the guy might have been older than any vampire he had dealt with, or something else entirely, but nothing could survive being blown to bits, as far as he knew. And vampires burned with fire, anyway.

After that the ghost didn't think anything else, because he was, well, deader than before. He'd come back, obviously, but not before some time.

And if Ric was lucky, it'd take more time for Jordan to come back from being blown to bits than what was needed to be revived from a broken neck, or even a beheading.

If he could not see the bastard's ugly mug until the Veil was back in place, he'd be happy enough. Especially considering there was no way he'd manage to get what was left of Connor Jordan to the clearing. What little what left of him, in fact. Hell, mashed potatoes would be easier to bring with him than that.

As Ric got back onto his feets, he tried to ignore the reddish stains that covered the street. Maybe no one would question the presence of human mash all over the street, not before the ghost got back into one bit and it disappeared? Yeah, right, and Ric wasn't covered in human residue.

He did self-consciously dust off his pants, but it didn't change much of anything, really.

Not that, himself, he was in a stellar state either. Alaric had no mirror to look at himself but he could see how half of his shirt had been blown away, because apparently being corporeal meant his shirt wasn't ghostly either, and if he couldn't feel the sticky business of exploded flesh covering him, it was because his skin was too busy reforming after having dealt with an explosive bastard right in the face. He couldn't tell for sure because it hurt in a lot of places, but he had a feeling he had lost half a jawbone to this nonsense.

He tried poking at it, just out of morbid curiosity.

Oh, yeah. There was, or, more accurately there wasn't, a missing part to his jawbone. In between torn flesh and flowing blood that squished under the tip of his fingers, he even felt the bone reforming from nothing.

If that was his jawbone, he didn't want to know what his left eye looked like, considering the pain he could feel coming from it, and the fact he couldn't see a thing.

Following a foolish hope that he'd feel better, and because it'd give his flesh and skin and bones and body in general some more time to get back into shape, Alaric stretched.

Something popped out of his back, which definitely felt uncomfortable, but not more uncomfortable than his jawbone. He stretched a bit more, frowning, and two other somethings popped out of his flesh. He took a deep breath, already fearing what it was that he'd find, and reached with his right arm. He had fallen right onto his back when the exploding bastard had actually exploded.

In between torn fabric and scraped off skin, that his fingers only ghosted over not to worsen the pain, he found small bits of hard material.

Rolling his shoulders a bit, he felt one pop out, and grabbed it before it fell.

Then he looked at it.

Oh, gross. He had to have rolled right into gravel after having restrained a kamikaze ghost, right? Because it wasn't yuck enough as it was. And it didn't hurt enough as it did. And...

Right, less complaining, more getting rid of the gravel stuck in his flesh and grating at his bones.

After five excruciating minutes, Alaric didn't look like an undead monster straight out of a horror movie, but only straight out of a horror movie. After all, the whole backstreet he had managed to drag Jordan to, out of sight and not as conspicuous as it would have been if they had exploded right outside the Mystic Grill, was covered in a very suspicious pinky-red goo. And even if all his skin and other bits were back in place, his clothes were still torns, and he was literally dripping blood... and other things he didn't want to think about.

Alaric took a short moment to breathe in, breathe out, before he got the hell away from the horror scene. It was already a miracle no one had walked in on him all monster-from-your-worst-zombie-nightmares-looking, he wasn't going to wait for the police to arrive because of the explosion.

Maybe that was why no one else had walked in already, because of the explosion. Too scared, maybe. Anyway, it was all the better for him.

He so did not want to explain, with or without compulsion, why there was a bloody mess in the backstreet.

Just as he walked away, he heard police sirens.

Alaric took the long way to the Grill, not willing to meet with said police sirens, that surely came from a police car, and whose police officers would certainly question the half-dressed bloodied man coming right from the direction of the latest explosion in town.

And as soon as he turned onto the place in front of the Mystic Grill, not suspiciously hiding his terrible state behind the nearest cars, he saw something that would have had him roll his eyes, if it hadn't been so serious an event he shouldn't and didn't feel the want to roll his eyes.

Ric had decided that, despite the state he was in, he'd take a look from afar, just to see if Jordan, or one of his little friends, had left another gift to the nice citizens of Mystic Falls.

Obviously he had been right to suspect there would be more to it.

Because really? Weren't the Brotherhood members supposed to be acting on their supernatural urge to end Silas, rather than on their personal urge for revenge? Apparently not, considering one of them had put Matt Donovan on an exploding device.

Seriously, the hunters of the Five and C4? It seemed to be a thing, and Alaric sure hoped Jeremy hadn't gotten it too.

Why did they have to want to blow things up? It was dangerous not only to the target, but also to the passersby. It wasn't the way to do things! Acid, on the other hand...

Focus.

The other ghost finally got the hell away, certainly to leave the two lovebirds to despair alone, and because, all things considered, he needed to get back to undoing Silas. Just, like, it was his main purpose both in life and the afterlife, man.

Couldn't he have started with that?

In a blink, Ric was next to the two, who gaped at the sight, while he studied the exploding device.

" _I hate it when it's homemade..."_

He glanced up at Rebekah, who had ended in Matt's place just before her ex left.

" _Don't move. I can disable it, but I'll need some time."_

The Original stared at him, dumbfounded. Firts, Alaric Saltzman had appeared out of nowhere, shirt in shreds and torn pants, thought the latter not as bad as the former, covered in blood and other things she didn't want to dwell on the nature of, and now he was offering help?

After all her family had done to him?

"Why would you do that? Don't you hate us for what our mother did to you?"

Eyes still on the device and knealing down, Alaric answered in a simple tone.

" _I hate your mother, true, but I don't hate you. I'm not your biggest fan either, considering you tend to murder people, but you're currently trying to become a better person, despite what you are. Ring a bell about my own situation, or Damon's? Now, shush. I'm familiar with landmines and all, but we're less likely to be blown up if I can concentrate."_

At that, the hunter frowned, looked up, and stared at Matt who had not moved.

" _Though it would not hurt if you moved away, as she suggested. Rebekah and I can't be killed by the explosion, but you could die if I fail with you still around. I don't know, go and wait at the Grill or something. If nothing goes boom, it's good news."_

"And if something goes boom, you'll still be alright, I get it."

Matt cast a last look at Rebekah, who shrugged him off as if it wasn't a big deal. She didn't want him around either if she was to be blown to bits.

A minute passed, which Ric used to open the device and get a better look at it, before she spoke again.

"I could just walk off it. It wouldn't do anything lasting, and you know it."

Alaric snorted, before reaching for a green wire with caution.

"And that way, you wouldn't risk being blown away too."

" _Oh, believe me, I do not wish to go boom a second time today. But you don't want it either, Rebekah, because it godamn hurts. I was missing half my jawbone only twenty minutes ago, and it's not something I recommend experiencing."_

The female Original vampire frowned at him, and the state of his clothing suddenly took a whole new meaning for her.

"So that was you, that explosion?"

Ric winced, but didn't deny it.

" _Another wacko ghost hunter was dressed in C4 at the Grill. I grabbed him and ran the farthest away possible, but it meant I was holding onto him when he exploded. The deputies must have already called for reinforcement, considering the mess it did in the street."_

"Damn, the afterlife is hard on you."

Ric smiled wrily, a finger on a wire, ready to tuck it out and go home for a change of clothes, or explode with it, one more time.

" _No more than life was. Now, a deep breath, Rebekah, and we're in for fate to decide whether or not I'll be the only one dressed in rags today."_

Both Originals watched anxiously as he finally disabled the device from hell.

Fortunately, it did not explode. It wouldn't have killed them, alright, but it'd have hurt like hell. And they did not wish to be hurt that much, or at all if they had a choice in the matter. Which they didn't.

Mission complete. Now Alaric only had to get back to the boarding house. And to get new clothes.


	94. OWA, part 23: Wasn't your day as eventfu

**One world apart, part 23: Wasn't your day as eventful as mine?**

When Ric entered the boarding house, he was a sight to see. Not a particularly nice sight to see, though. More like an uncommon sight to see.

So that was what Damon did, he saw. And more than that, he watched, at a loss for words.

Alaric himself looked really great. No missing bits of flesh, no bloodshot eyes, no visible wounds.

But the thing was, the ghost was also an Original vampire. It was totally normal for him to look healthy, because almost everything that could potentially happen to him would heal right away. Really, only amputation could not be undone for a normal vampire, which Alaric wasn't, and an haircut too, because, well, hair didn't heal, it grew back.

Besides, the vampire was a ghost. Anything life-threatening would disappear if he "died".

So, yes, Ric was alright.

It certainly wasn't the case for everything else, especially his clothes. They were in shreds. Like, Damon wasn't even sure if they used to be clothes at some point. The pants, he could more or less tell, but the shirt? Had it ever been a shirt at some point? Really, was anyone sure it wasn't just an old rag to begin with? And if he remembered right, it used to be a... white... whitish... shirt?

Well, now, every inch of fabric on Alaric Saltzman had either been torn off or painted bloody. Freshly dried bloody, at that. So, brownishly red, perhaps?

What in hell had happened to the ghost?

The vampire asked just that, once his voice was his to control again.

Ric arched an eyebrow, but didn't stop on his way to Damon's room. He knew the guy had to have kept some of his old clothes. If only for the scent. And it wasn't as if the ghost had seen the vampire cuddle with his shirts to go to sleep, only two days before, right? Oh wait, he had.

It had been cute at the time. And now it would come in handy.

" _Connor Jordan thought it'd be a great idea to kamikaze himself, as, you know, he doesn't care for dying, at the Grill, and I told him otherwise."_

Damon followed Ric on the stairs, frowning a bit. He wasn't certain how dissuading a supernatural and ghostly hunter to kill himself in front of everyone could possibly turn into... this. Hell, he had no idea why Jordan's ghost would want to kill himse...

Wait, had Alaric said "kamikaze"?

"He tried to blow himself up?"

Ric pushed open the door to Damon's room and went directly for the closet.

" _Oh, he didn't just try, he succeeded."_

Damon, still following his dead lover around like a love-sick puppy with a big frown on his face, frowned harder. Ric glanced at him for an instant, and decided that, indeed, if the vampire had been a dog, he'd be a siberian husky, given the color pattern. A vampire husky puppy. Uh. Interesting idea, if anything.

"But, didn't you say you stopped him from...?"

" _I stopped him from blowing himself up in the Mystic Grill, but it wasn't exactly possible to undo the explosion once he triggered the C4. So I just grabbed him and rushed us out before the blast happened. That's why I'm covered in bits of mashed hunter, obviously."_

Damon stood still next to the doorframe of his bathroom, a bemused look on his face, while Ric went to borrow his shower. The guy, ghost or not, needed a shower, that much was certain.

And if the vampire oggled a bit as he wondered what the sheriff department would cover this up with this time, it was totally warranted. The naked ghost in his shower and covered in blood and other... body remains, was his lover, after all.

Damn, Damon wasn't gay except for Ric, but that one surely was worth the difference.

And Damon found it really disturbing to think about his approval for Elizabeth Forbes' hard work as his eyes roamed Alaric's back shamelessly. So he simply stopped thinking about the sheriff, and went back to appreciating the view.

Even if said view was actually washing off a human milkshake.

"Obviously..."

His voice might have drawled a bit on that part, the vampire realized, but he didn't manage to bring himself to care. During the last years, he had learned not to get surprised by anything, and if sarcasm was his answer to the improbability of his life, who had a right to judge?

The way the soap made Ric's body all shiny under the artificial light made him feel a bit constricted in his pants, as it was. Damon really, really wanted to be a bar of soap, right now, and wasn't that ridiculous? The ghost turned the water on once again, and in a minute there was no reminder of the explosion on him, though the water at his feet was pink with... things.

Alaric turned around, and leaned against the tiled wall. He didn't bother with a towel for now, because he really liked the look on his boyfriend's face. And if he had only a few hours left before becoming immaterial again, he was going to enjoy it as uch as he could.

" _Obviously. Why, wasn't your day as eventful as mine?"_

"Well, it's only midday and I didn't get blown up, that's for sure, but..."

Damon's spirits deflated a bit, as he remembered the events from the morning. Magdalena was alright now, and resting in one of the guestrooms, sure, but still.

"Another of the Five came by and tried to shoot me with werewolf-venom-soaked bullets. I was... saved by your cousin, but she took the bullet for me, and we had to heal her. She didn't look well after that."

Alaric didn't say anything, at first, and when he did he had reached for a towel. He wasn't quite in the mood anymore, with all that serious talk...

" _Mag is alright now?"_

"Resting, but yeah. Lexi managed to get all the bits of wood out, and well, she's a Saltzman..."

Ric made a mental note to thank the only other friendly ghost around if he got the chance, before the Veil went back into place. Then he turned his attention back to Damon, not having liked the news that a freaking hunter had tried to infect the vampire with werewolf venom, again.

" _And you? You're alright?"_

Damon squirmed a bit on his feet, but didn't look away, which was a good sign. The vampire would totally have been one to lie and hide the fact he was infected or hurt, if it had been the case, but he was holding his gaze. Never a guarantee with Damon, but still.

"No problem. Magdalena took us both, hunter and vampire alike, by surprise, and the bullet didn't even get anywhere near me."

Mostly because the woman had boldly put herself between him and said bullet, but Damon didn't want to dwell on the fact that much. He was still shaken by the very fact that someone else than his brother or Alaric would risk their lives for him, and he didn't want to remember that Mag had indeed taken a huge risk for him.

Alaric sighed, and put on a new shirt, one that didn't look like it had been eaten by a blood slime and spit back because it tasted bad.

They still had many things to deal with, and ultimately...

Ultimately he wasn't going to stay here. Damon would still be able to see him, but he wouldn't really be there. There would be no contact, no warmth, no comfort.

Damon was surprised when the ghost suddenly pulled him into a hug, but he found it strangely pleasant. Comforting, even, and, maybe, just maybe, he thought he would miss it when the world'd get back on tracks. Or, as much on tracks as it ever was in Mystic Falls.

Alaric withdrew himself, and patted his lover on the shoulder, sighing.

" _Come on, we got to take care of the ghost infestation, and of the Silas statue, and..."_

"I get it, I get it! Please do not remind me of all our problems, or we'll have another one to deal with right away."

Ric gave him a passing glance, before focusing back on the stairs he was descending. It'd be ridiculous for him to stumble down the stairs because he hadn't been looking, and the ghost didn't exactly appreciate being ridiculous, especially not now that everyone could see him again.

" _And what would that problem be?"_

Damon rolled his eyes.

"My nervous breakdown."

A tiny smile lifted the left corner of Ric's mouth, but the vampire could obviously not see that.

" _Of course."_

A door opened upstairs, and the two looked up to where they had just come from. Mag was standing in the doorframe of a guestroom, looking a bit lost. She might not have realized yet where she was, since she wasn't exactly familiar with the Salvatore boarding house, and could see no reason why she'd sleep here of all places.

Then her eyes fell on her cousin, and she nodded to herself. Right, vampires were real, and there was a ghost invasion currently on-going in the small town. She had been shot with a wooden bullet. No great penetration, but surely painful. If she had even needed a reason not to become a vampire, it would have been that. She didn't want people to shoot here with that kind of bullets again.

Magdalena's eyes glided to Damon Salvatore, vampire owner of the boarding house that she had possibly saved this morning. Uh.

The woman looked around, but saw no one else in the house.

"Weren't Stefan and his friend here?"

Lexi. Right, Lexi, who had taken care of her leg. Good thing for Stefan to be friend with that girl, even if she was a bit ghostly... At least she wasn't a murderous villain like most ghosts in this town.

Damon checked his watch, and sure enough, he knew where his brother had gone off to.

The vampire rolled his eyes.

"My delightful little brother went to his... I-have-no-idea-which-number-it-is graduation ceremony. It shouldn't be long before it starts, and..."

He squinted, thoughtful.

"I should probably go there too, just in case a bunch of angry ghosts decided to off my friends after, or worse, during the ceremony. It's not like most of them have been adamant to do just that since the Veil is on pause, after all..."

Alaric nodded. The ghosts just knew where almost all of their targets were going to be, wasn't that marvelous? He sure hoped there wouldn't be any death today, except for those who were, in fact, already dead, but that was a difficult wish to please.

" _You do that. I think I'll go and take the sheriff's place at the clearing so that she can organize her men to keep an eye on the ceremony too. Besides, I'm sure Liz Forbes would appreciate not having to chop off a head every ten minutes, whereas I simply don't care."_

Then the ghost turned to his boyfriend.

" _And you don't get yourself killed, you got that?"_

Damon's eyes widened comically, and he brought his hands to his heart.

"I would never!"

Ric gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing. The two disappeared from Mag's field of view. The women blinked at the empty entrance of the boarding house, and yawned.

"Yeah, right, you do that. Me, I'll just... go back to sleep, you know."

She went for the room she had just left.

Just as they walked out of the boarding house, Alaric and Damon stopped to the sight of someone approaching them. Someone they hadn't seen since... some time. They shared a perplexed look. When exactly had the grim reaper walked out of town? A week ago? Five days? They weren't certain, but they certainly hadn't seen her during the last days.

Judging by the look on her face, Ariane had been very, very confused by what she had just seen. Considering she could see the different layers of the afterlife, and that one of them was currently joined together with the living world...

"What the hell did you idiots do while I was away?"

Yup, Ariane was wondering why there were freaking material ghosts running around and causing havoc. Had they been her, they would surely react just the same way.

So Damon did the sensible thing and put his hands in the air, as if to surrender before she decided to reap him. Just in case.

"We didn't do anything. Silas' the one who went and forced our witch to do naughty things."

Alaric snorted at that. It surely was the easy way around the truth.

Damon glared at him. He didn't need any help to look like an idiot, thank you very much.


	95. OWA, part 24: Bridge

_You're selfish, you know that? Read until the end, and tell me you aren't selfish. Tell me you won't make that choice (I'm not even asking about Damon, Damon's choice is obvious)_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 24: Bridge**

Ariane didn't feel well. The two idiots were doing their antics, like always, but it really wasn't the time for antics. The sole name of Silas had managed to writhe her insides, and the mad Immortal had managed to get a witch to do things for him? Something that, despite his own enormous power, he couldn't have done on his own? It could only mean it was something serious, because power would never be a problem for Silas. The Immortal witch was so old his power had grown bigger than any other witch could even consider. So it meant it had to be a spell he couldn't do for other reasons. Such as, it needed tapping into Expression...

And certainly, considering the effects, the spell had needed to be done by someone with Expression. The Veil hadn't only been lifted, it wasn't as if everyone had just put the right goggles on. There was something more going on there, and Ariane wasn't sure what it was, but it definitely wasn't something good.

The grim reaper still couldn't feel the arm one of the ghosts had touched, a few minutes ago, as she had been hurrying to the boarding house. The contact had been brief, and painful, and now she felt as if all life had been taken from her flesh, as if the ghost had somehow sucked on her energy. The fear she had felt, at that moment, and the look of triumph in the dead werewolf's eyes, it had been enough to trigger her scythe without her willing it. Before he knew it, the ghost had been beheaded cleanly, and Ariane had been catching her breath against a wall, unsure of what had really happened there.

Her left hand twitched at the memory. The reaper was more than certain this was why she had felt so sick when she had set foot into the ghost-invaded zone. That this was why whatever Silas had done, it could only be something bad.

She wasn't sure how, she wasn't sure why, but the Veil between the world of the living and Qetsiyah's afterlife hadn't only been ripped open, it had also latched onto her, a grim reaper. In the zone, life and death were converging, and she was the point of convergence. If what had happened with the ghost werewolf happened again, and she couldn't stop it in time...

Ariane wasn't sure the balance of these two layers would resist the damage.

And if that happened, there was no telling if the Veil could be put back into place.

The grim reaper barked at the bickering idiots.

"You don't get how terrible this is, do you?! Not only do you have to deal with Silas, the first Immortal ever, and his insanely strong magic, but you also need to stay clear of the occasional stray ghost with a grudge, and you have to put the Veil back into place before it merges with the living world! All that, preferably without you dying in the process, since, you know, you'd end up trapped in the Veil like every other supernatural being!"

Alaric Saltzman, obviously, was right back to a grave face, so quickly Ariane hadn't even noticed him stopping his antics. She wasn't surprised, though. The guy was a Falkenbach, and she knew too well how this curse influenced a person. After all, the grim reapers had considered it their duty to know what one of them had unwillingly created.

Damon, on the other hand, only stared at her for a moment, before asking, almost tentatively:

"It can't be that terrible, can it? I mean, we've already dealt with a lot of shit over the years, and we're still alive... wait, here, more like, because seriously Ric, you could try harder..."

The vampire got a swat on the back of his head for that.

"Sorry. As I said, what's one more little catastrophe...?"

The glare Ariane gave him seemed to do the trick.

"...or maybe not. What did you mean by the Veil merging with the living world?"

Ah, so he had listened. And he had gotten directly to the worst part. Ariane guessed there was yet some hope for him. Maybe the vampire wasn't an utter idiot, but just an idiot. Who knew, really? Maybe there was a brain in there, hidden behind the dirty thoughts and the unwaranted snarkiness.

Maybe.

"It's a possibility. The layers of life and death are unstable, right now, and if a certain succession of events happens, the Veil could be destroyed, but while on the wrong side of the balance, and that not only here, but in the whole world. Its souls would be scattered on this side, in life, and well, you know what happens when a lot of angry ghosts gets resurrected permanently?"

Damon winced a bit.

"People die?"

"People get torn to shreds. And you still have to deal with Silas while avoiding all your old enemies."

There, Alaric interrupted whatever it was Damon had been about to say, a hand on the vampire's shoulder. He looked calm... enough. More than Ariane had expected, even from a Falkenbach, but less than he would look if he had been ignoring his feelings.

Almost as if part of the problem had already been dealt with.

"Silas no longer is a problem. We got him back into mineral state, so to say, and as long as no one feed him blood, we should be safe. We plan to dispose of him in an inaccessible place as soon as the Veil is dealt with."

Ariane felt her blood pressure, which didn't exactly exist anymore, but who cares?, dampen a bit. No insane Immortal with a death wish that might provoque the death of a few hundreds of people. At best. That was something she could appreciate.

But it didn't change the rest of the situation.

"That still leaves the invading ghosts who'd love to get your and you friends' heads on a pike."

Ric turned to look at Damon, who already had his charming, if a little roguish, smile on.

"Well, you'll help us, won't you? You won't let them get to me, your old friend who is doing his best to undo whatever it is that Silas had planned to happen, will you?"

Ariane didn't look impressed.

Actually, she looked a bit green. Like she wasn't happy about it, but she was going to do something no one would like, because it had to be done.

"Sorry, Damon, but you are on your own this time. I'd like to help you, but I'm part of the chain of events that could lead to the merging. The best course of action is to leave town, and to leave the zone where the Veil has been dropped. If I don't, we risk having ghosts from all around the world running around. I can't risk that."

The vampire reached for her and grabbed her arm gently.

"What do you mean, you are part of the chain?"

The grim reaper breathed deeply, eyes closed. She couldn't tell for sure, and she certainly wouldn't be able to forgive herself if it turned out she was wrong and Damon or any of the people she cared about got murdered because she wasn't here to defend them, but...

No, the risks were too big.

"Some... things happened, on my way here. I thinks I'm the first step. I'm naturally between the layers, but now there isn't an in-between, so... Let's say that if I came into contact with a being who is currently caught in the very same place as I live, ...things could happen."

Immediately, Ric took a step back and away from the reaper. He had no desire to see what these "things" could be, and it was pretty obvious what Ariane had meant by a being caught in her domain. A material ghost. Just like him.

Ariane smiled weakly at the ghost, thankful for his understanding. It was simply too dangerous...

Damon, on the other hand, frowned.

"Things? We were talking about a chain of event, weren't we? So it's not a the-ghost-touch-the-reaper,-the-world-shatters, not right away at least..."

The grim reaper tried to shake her arm out of the vampire's grip, but she wasn't strong enough to do that. Maybe she'd have managed against a newly-turned vampire, or a werewolf, but Damon had around one century and a half behind him, and vampire strength went bigger with age. Grim reapers, on the other hand, were only at human peak strength. A third of a newly-turned vampire's strength. Ariane couldn't beat Damon in sheer strenght.

She almost growled her discontent.

"Damon, I really, really need to go. This event, the Veil being dropped this way, it never happened before. Even if there was a way to stop the chain of events once it has started, I wouldn't know what it is. I will not risk the coming back of a few thousands of souls. Not even for you."

"But..."

The vampire's other hand clasped on her arm, and Damon was holding her back, almost pleading. Almost, because Damon Salvatore didn't plead. So, almost.

Alaric was about to say something, and keep Damon from being clingy, because well, that was definitely what was going on. Ariane needed to go, to get out of the zone where the Veil had been dropped, and that was it. She was right, Damon needed to let her go, and they were losing time...

But he didn't speak.

Ric didn't say anything, because something happened, and no one said a word.

As Damon had reached for his friend a second time, to beg, sorry, ask her very insistently to stay around and get rid of a few ghosts for them, because Damon Salvatore didn't beg, and you'd better remember that!, so, as his second hand had touched Ariane's arm, the nexus ring had started to shine.

Ariane's eyes widened. Something cold and crawling slithered by waves from the ring and into her skin, right where the two met. For a moment, she had the impression her metallic blood had been changed for iced water by the contact of the ring. Then the waves of cold fell back into the ring, but not without taking something with them.

It was exactly like when that werewolf ghost had touched her, only, worse. In a few seconds, it wasn't only her arm, but her heart, her head, her toes, her whole body that felt deprived of human warmth, just like a cadaver.

Ariane understood.

With the ghost, it would have taken much longer, and she had a feeling he wouldn't have been able to complete the transition from dead to living, permanently. In fact, she just knew it. Even with all the ghosts around, she would have been safer if she had stayed out of the boarding house, away from Damon, away from the nexus ring she had made herself. Sure, she might have been attacked by the ghosts, searching to steal her life force, but it wouldn't have ended the processus, it wouldn't have started the merging, because the ghosts out there had no anchor. Ariane was their door to another life, but they didn't have the key.

Damon had the key for Alaric to pass through.

Damon was the key for Alaric to pass through.

Maybe she should just summon her scythe, and kill the key. Her instincts had already kicked in, and because of their friendship, she had reigned them in, but really, maybe she shouldn't have. At least, if she had let it happen, she could have blamed it on her instincts.

Behind Damon, she saw Alaric's face twist, almost in pain, perhaps in glee. Something the ghost wouldn't have been able to control, even if he had wanted. Some instinct, for him too, to latch onto the life source Damon had unknowingly given him access to.

Despite feeling like a block of ice, or, really, more like a bloc of stone, which doesn't feel anything, Ariane turned, slowly, desperately, to look her friend in the eyes. Damon seemed frozen in shock, but he caught her glance, and eventually looked back at her.

Her lower jaw was hard to move. A bit as if the mechanisms were jammed. A bit as if she was a statue made of stone.

Stone statues aren't supposed to talk. Still, she would speak.

"Damon, you have to let go! The ring, with the blood of a dead, the blood of a being in-between, and the blood of a living, it's creating a brigde. It's anchoring Alaric back into life, and such a disturbance could start the merging of the Veil with the world of the living!"

If only she had understood that sooner...!

But while Ariane felt desperate, unable to move, unable to take the decision and kill her friend, while the world was hanging in the balance, the words rang into Damon's head.

It's anchoring Alaric back into life.

Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't have let go of Ariane's arm. He couldn't have stopped the nexus ring from touching the reaper's skin. He couldn't have moved away, and made it stop.

It wasn't even that he didn't want to move, or that he wanted Ric alive even to the cost of hundreds of possibly-murderous souls walking free from a scattered Veil.

It was simply that the thought of Ric, alive, again, had stopped him from thinking.


	96. OWA, part 25: In a very few words

_Aaaaand here cooomes another chaaapteer!_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 25: In a very few words**

It was... overwhelming.

In fact, Alaric wasn't sure what it was exactly that he was feeling. It felt foreign, kind of, but he could still guess, somehow. Sure, it freaked him out a bit, now that he realized, but well. He could just tell that this foreign feeling was, in fact, life itself. There wasn't more strange than to realize you had forgotten how to be alive at some point, though.

He felt exactly the same, and yet, different. Becoming material again had only brought back his senses of touch, of smell, of taste. Senses that definitely belonged to a human being, but they were not what made a human being. Nor a living being.

That... That was different.

He felt whole again, in a very few words.

A very few words, because there wasn't time for him to think about it.

Ric did his best to cut out the strange feeling of extreme joy currently passing through his whole body. It wasn't something his brain had produced, because the ghost was still very focused on the enormous problem they were currently witnessing, and the possible Apocalypse/Armageddon/you-name-it that might happen as a result. It was something more... primal, perhaps.

It was his very being that rejoiced at being pulled out of death.

And it was impeding his ability to react, right now, and to possibly stop what was happening before it was too late. So he simply decided to forget about it.

To lock it away.

A Saltzman did not need a feeling of unknown origin, anyway.

Alaric took a deep breath, and pushed it away, with his very soul. A dozen of seconds passed... and his body was his again, and he could actually do something about the impending disaster.

Oh yes, he had heard Ariane's words, and he wasn't going to let the world end/implode/suffer-through-blood-and-virgin-sacrifices just for the chance to come back to life. He really wasn't worth such a castastrophe, what with his psychological issues, his supernatural family curse, and the new and surely terrible urges he'd have to deal with as a vampire. A vampire who couldn't even kill himself by, say, stepping in the sunlight without protection. A vampire he wasn't sure anyone would be able to control if he lost a marble at some point.

Besides, the grim reaper was friendly enough, and she seemed to suffer greatly from the process of his umpteenth return to life.

Actually, Ariane kind of looked like a chalk statue, right now. Powdery white, and easy to break.

Ric reached for Damon, grabbed his arm, and pulled. Strangely, the vampire who, though older, should have been way weaker than him, resisted. Damon seemed frozen too, his hand on Ariane's arm, his eyes on the nexus ring, his hope in his eyes. Both the vampire and the reaper were unmoving, and it sure started to worry Alaric. If he hadn't seen Ariane speak just a moment before, he'd think they had been turned to stone.

Silas was the only stone statue he wanted to deal with right now.

The air around the grim reaper thickened, and the ghost felt something switch in him.

It was now, or never.

" _Damon..."_

His voice sounded strange, even to him. Nothing more than a raspy whisper. He had trouble moving. His muscles seemed... Yes, that was it, petrified. Just like the two other people in the room, he guessed. Whatever was happening with the nexus ring, with the Veil, with Ariane, it was causing this... Almost preventing them to stop it.

A slow and painful wince distorted Alaric's face, as he exaggerated the strength in his grip, and yanked Damon out of the way, and more importantly, away from Ariane.

Damon felt himself being torn away from his friend, from the door to Ric's life, from his only hope. He struggled, or tried to, because he couldn't move. But he was moved away, and it all stopped.

The vampire blinked. He had fallen on his ass, and he wasn't sure why, but he could feel someone under him, and... Damon turned his head around. Alaric was looking at him, a disturbed look on his face. For a moment, the vampire wanted to scream at his lover. They had been so close...

Then his eyes wnet back to Ariane, who had fallen to her knees, and looked more than ashen, her breathing short and ragged.

Worry got at him, and he felt a push from the ghost he had landed on.

Damon was a bit reluctant to move away from Ric, but hell, Ariane sure looked like he'd better take a look and see if she was alright. Not that there was a large chance for her to answer "yes", considering how she looked. Although, usually, when someone asked that question... They rarely expected a positive answer anyway.

Nonetheless, the vampire got to his feet clumsily, noticed the world was waddling around him, and still, somehow, managed to get to his friend. Then he asked the question to which he already knew the answer, the question that always gets on everyone's nerves, the question that never got a positive and honest answer.

"You're okay, Ariane?"

The grim reaper started away from him, and scrambled to her feet. The look in her eyes was hurt, and Damon's heart wrenched when he realized this fear was directed at him, that he was the cause of her pain.

Deep inside himself, he knew it to be true, and he knew he wasn't feeling that much remorse. If he had managed to keep his hold on her for just a few more seconds... It only made it worse.

"What do you think?! You... you pulled all the life out of me, yet being what I am, I couldn't die! To a vampire, it would be comparable to desiccating! You, you did that to me, Damon! And worse, you were ready to risk the balance of the world for one single life! You are lucky your boyfriend managed to stop you right before it was too late!"

The vampire took a step back, his eyes flickering to Ric in despair. Just as he had guessed, it had been too soon. Ric wasn't...

Ariane gave the ghost an apologetic look.

"Alaric, I really can't say what will happen to you once the Veil is back into place. Theoretically, you're still a ghost, but you were one second away from crossing to the living side of things. I'm... not sure you still qualify as a full ghost, but you aren't alive either. You are likely to remain behind the Veil, though..."

Ric grimaced, but took it well enough, considering.

His life... no, wait, his lives and deaths, plural, tended to be shitty at best. You could say he had grown used to it. Not that he thought it something to be proud of.

" _We'll see. It's not like I had much hope to come back to life, once again, anyway. I'm just relieved we didn't completely crack the world, despite Damon's foolishness."_

The vampire's face darkened a bit at that, and he folded his arms around himself, as if to shield his decisions and actions.

"It's not as if I could really walk away either! Ariane, you were as frozen as I was, you know I couldn't...!"

The grim reaper interrupted her friend, an angry scowl on her face.

"That's not the question, Damon! The question is, would you have let go, if you had been able to?"

Damon didn't meet her gaze, and she sneered at him.

"Why aren't I surprised? I think I will leave town, now. You can call me back in a decade or two, maybe I'll be in the mood to listen to your excuses!"

Ariane stalked away, and Damon didn't do a thing to stop her. She did, however, stop. She looked directly at Alaric, ignoring her friend completely. Given the state she was in, and what Damon had caused, Ariane felt entitled to being very, very angry.

"Just so you know, Alaric: maybe the layers didn't merge completely, but what just happened? It was enough to crack the Veil where it hasn't been rendered inefficient, meaning, everywhere aside from Mystic Falls. You can be certain that a few overpowered dead witches took advantages of the situation and are now walking the earth again. Other supernatural beings can't do that, but passing through a crack? It's easy for a witch with enough back-up. I hope you'll have fun dealing with them, because me, I'm out!"

And she slammed the door shut, leaving the two others to stare dumbly at said door.

After a moment, though, Alaric turned his eyes back onto Damon, and eyed him with reproach.

The vampire scowled at him, disheartened.

"Oh, don't start with the lessons! I could have gotten you back permanently, and I was almost unable to move! It wasn't exactly easy to make a decision in a tiny twenty seconds time."

The ghost sighed, but didn't start any lesson. Damon felt a new sparkle of hope and hid a small smile. Then Ric ruffled his hair, and the vampire scowled again.

" _I suppose it wasn't easy. I just regret that the world can't ever go easy on us."_

"You and me both, mate."

Ric laughed sadly, and ruffled Damon's hair once more.

"Stop it, damn idiot!"

The ghost, who didn't feel much like a ghost anymore, and who could totally see what Ariane had meant earlier, winced as he stilled his hand, but didn't take it out of the raven hair.

What he was feeling right now, he had never had to experience it beforehand. Not... consciously, at least. The only times it had happened to him, just before his last death, he hadn't exactly been himself. So he didn't know what to do with himself, besides keeping his body occupied with something, anything, as long as it kept his mind off the throbbing pain in his throat, stomach, and guts in general.

Damon untangled himself from his lover's fingers. He turned around quickly, a growl at the back of his throat, but with surprise in his eyes. Something wasn't right with the ghost.

And the vampire didn't like it when something wasn't right with Ric. Considering it usually involved the hunter under the influence of the Falkenbach curse, or temporary death, Damon felt he had a right to be concerned.

The expression on Ric's face confirmed his suspicions.

"Is something wrong?"

What if, since Ric was once again stuck between life and death, what if, because he had failed to keep his hold on Ariane, things had gone from bad, as in dead, to worse, as in... Well, Damon wasn't sure what could be worse than Ric being dead right at the moment, but give him a moment, and surely he could come up with something. It couldn't be that hard, given what their daily lives were like. Something involving unending torture, quite possibly... terrible pains... or a bunch of other unpleasant things. Maybe even all those things at the same time.

Damon shook his head, willing the disturbing thoughts away.

Ric only gave him a blank look, as if he had no idea what this was about.

The vampire rolled his eyes, before making a head tilt towards the twitching fingers of his boyfriend.

"Man, you look like a junkie who didn't get his dose. And I'm pretty sure you didn't have access to any kind of... stuff while on the other side, so you can't possibly be an addict. You don't have the right personality, either. Kind of a drunkard, maybe, at times, but no drugs. So, what's wrong?"

Alaric winced, again, and went to hug Damon. He had missed having someone to care for him like that. Lately, it had always been him worrying about Damon...

The ghost breathed in the comforting scent of his lover. His body was almost mollified by the sole presence of Damon's against him. His mind certainly was pacified.

His gums, on the other hand...

Ric could feel the moderate heat coming from his vampire's body. It was nothing like a human's, sure, but it was Damon, so it called to him all the same. The loud sound of blood pumping right there, just under the skin where he had his nose... Ready for the taking.

The ghost opened his eyes, and he felt more like a vampire than a ghost, this time. The blue of his eyes was swimming into two dark red pools. He knew the veins under his eyes were overflowed with dark blood. He could tell his canines were already turning into fangs.

Damon's blood was calling to him.

For the first time since he was material again, the Original was experiencing the need to feed. Because he wasn't only material anymore, he guessed. He wasn't that dead anymore.

Ric nuzzled his lover's neck, while his fangs grazed the tender skin. In a whisper, he said it.

" _I am thirsty, Damon"._


	97. OWA, part 26: Unusual propensity to die

_I know you'll loke it._  
 _If not, prove me otherwise._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 26: Unusual propensity to die and get resurrected**

There was a moment of silence.

Both had to process what it meant exactly, for Ric to be "thisty". So far he hadn't been, because... Well, because he had been a ghost. And, Damon would bet the hunter was still a ghost, only more attuned to the livings, which made no sense at all. So, if Alaric needed to feed...

Oh hell, had Damon's actions condamned Ric to have needs despite being dead?!

If that was the case, his lover was going to suffer for all eternity. As soon as the Veil would be back into place, he wouldn't be able to interact with the world. He wouldn't be able to feed, nor to die, and... He would probably desiccate until the end of time!

The vampire was about to speak up about that, and possibly to apologize for a few hundreds things he knew he shouldn't have done. Apologizing wasn't something he did very often, he wasn't even sure he had done it once in the last decade, but well. He was feeling like crap, right now.

"Ric, you..."

But before he could say more, Damon felt two sharp somethings break the skin of his neck.

It stopped him.

Reminded of the only time a vampiric Alaric had fed on him, he gasped a bit, but did not try to stop his boyfriend from quenching the thirst. Surely this wasn't Evilaric, just... a slightly disoriented Ric? Considering, you know, being-almost-alive-but-not-quite and all that.

Then the older vampire started to feel dizzy.

He pushed Ric back, just a bit. He knew that, had the Original wanted, he wouldn't have been able to do anything, so he took it to be a good thing that he could. It meant Alaric wasn't completely lost in bloodlust or whatever, that he wasn't going to be fed from until no blood remained in his body, or worse, until his head fell off. It was rare, but that happened, from time to time. Especially to Stefan's victims, when his little brother was in one of his cr...

Right. No thinking about beheading by too-enthusiastic biting.

Damon was almost convinced he heard Ric whine when he pushed him away.

"I don't mean to interrupt your date with my jugular, sweetheart, but I think we have some things to do. You know, you go to take Liz's place at the clearing, I go to make sure no one tries to behead Pouty, Barbie, Stefykins or Judgy during the ceremony, all that?"

Ric's eyes seemed a bit glazed, but soon it was gone. The hunter blinked, as if in surprise at his own actions. Then he shrugged. He wiped the blood off his chin, embarrassed, and took a step back.

The hunter tried to speak, but he found his throat suspiciously dry. He'd have thought that drinking blood would make that better, but apparently not. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he had been so transfixed with Damon's blood, just a moment ago. He might not remember the other time he had been alive, and a vampire, but still. He hoped all blood did not smell like that, because if it did...

He wasn't sure he could resist. There really had been something, like a pull he hadn't been able to throw off, even by being his usual inhuman self who didn't care at all for the needs of the body as long as he didn't get weakened for it.

His eyes wandered back against his will to Damon's throat, to the closed bite mark, still visible if only because of the blood smeared where he had bitten...

And oddly, he didn't feel the pull again.

Sure, the blood smelled nice, and he was certain he wouldn't mind getting more, but it was nothing unreasonable. It wasn't...

It was just blood, like before, when he was human, only he found he kind of liked it now. Just like when suddenly you find yourself wishing for a kind of food you had never really payed attention to before. He could tell it would do him good, to drink it, but... That was all, really.

What had it been about, then?

Alaric coughed once or twice, still blinking, and eventually cleared his throat loudly.

"I..."

He paused, dumbfounded. He brought a hand to his neck, just to make sure there wasn't anything strange with it. But no, no gash, no sore skin, no delicate throat. Not that he'd expected to find anything, because really? His voice sounded clearer than it had for months. More real.

Damon arched both eyebrows, a teasing smile on.

"What, the cat got your tongue? Or didn't you expect to be blood-craved like the others of us lowly vampires?"

Ric gave him the evil eye for no apparent reason, already heading for the door.

"Just go on and take care of the kids, will you?"

And he all but slamed the door.

Damon stared at said door for a good minute, bemused, before his cellphone rang. It sent him back into action. It was Stefan's number. So either his little brother was wondering why the hell he wasn't there for his... you know what, nevermind the number of this particular graduation ceremony... or something was wrong. Knowing his luck, it would be the former, but knowing Stefan, it could be the first. The kid sure knew how to bitch about things.

Not that Damon couldn't bitch about things either.

He did it often enough to certify he could do it just as well as his brother did.

Ric probably was grumpy about something he had said or done in the last days. The guy had been dead for quite some time, and perhaps he deserved to be cut some slack. Damon sure would be grumpy if he had had to watch things happen, people be killed, idiots be idiots without being able to do a thing about it. Actually, he guessed he'd be on a killing spree right now, if he had been in Ric's shoes. The hunter had changed him, but Damon suspected he would need a few more years with his lover before he became an upstanding blood-sucking citizen.

Good thing that Alaric would get to vent his anger some more this day. Damon had a feeling quite a number of heads would fall off before the end of the day, before Bonnie could put the Veil back.

Damon left the boarding house as he answered his phone, and so he missed the fact that Alaric hadn't left yet. The hunter was simply leaning against a wall, close to the front door. He seemed to try and control his breath, eyes closed, but listening.

Ric breathed out one last time as he finally heard Damon leave. He had calmed down, for now, but he had also discovered a few things, now that he wasn't overwhelmed by whatever had just happened.

Whatever being, most likely, his definitive coming back to life. Or, last-heard-of coming back to life, considering his unusual propensity to die and get resurrected.

He snorted a bit, and heard once again the sound of his voice.

He didn't feel, he didn't sound like he belonged to the Veil anymore. He was...

Alive.

For someone who died and got revived as often as he did, the hunter thought he shouldn't be that astonished anymore. It didn't stop him from feeling that way.

It made sense, though. What had happened with Ariane, almost pulling him back to life by using her life energy, had also been done with Damon as his anchor to the living side of the world. If anything could make him live once again, it made sense that it'd be drinking his anchor's blood. And as Ric hadn't really been anywhere after that, not in the Veil, not with the living, nowhere at all, he surmised his body itself, or maybe his subconscious, had pulled him to the only exit possible. Hence the urge to feed from his idiot vampire boyfriend.

Right.

He'd have to tell the guy, before Bonnie finished her spell, or Damon'd probably go crazy thinking of them being separated again. Damon and crazy didn't do well together. Most of the time, it caused a few death and a lot of tears.

Still, Alaric wasn't going to distract his lover now, because if he did tell Damon right away that Hey, surprise, he wasn't going to disappear (perhaps)!, he had a feeling the idiot would manage to get himself killed by being recklessly happy.

And, maybe, there was also the fact that despite his almost certitude, Ric wasn't absolutely sure to be alive again. Magic and whatnot's effects were not often that easy to guess, especially when the ones doing the guessing, here, himself, weren't witches.

The hunter knew many things about many subjects, but he couldn't say that witchcraft was something he had much knowledge on. He knew more than the average person who had no idea the supernatural even existed, but that was all.

If he was wrong, and he hadn't been resurrected at all, if the thirst for blood and his aching shoulder weren't about that...

He didn't want to say it out loud, and give himself hope. And he certainly didn't want to say it out loud, and give Damon a possibly false hope.

Because that'd suck.

Finally Alaric decided it was really time to go. Since they had first said they'd go their separate way to ensure nothing too dramatic happened because of the ghostly invasion, some time had passed, and yet he was still here. How much time had it been? Forty minutes? One hour?

Elizabeth Forbes would have liked to be present to her daughter's graduation ceremony. It would be selfish of him to leave her to behead a bunch of ghosts in a clearing any longer.

No, really.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact he might have wanted to behead a few ghosts himself. He was pretty sure it'd be a therapeutic experience, though.

Ric blurred out of here, to be at the clearing as quickly as possible.

But he had only made it a dozen of meters away from the boarding house, when he felt the pain.

He wouldn't tell anyone this had happened, afterwards, because it surely had been ridiculous, even if he couldn't tell himself because he had... Well, because it had happened to him, and it isn't really possibly to witness your own misery, not in that way.

The fact was, he tripped as the burning pain tore his skin apart. And then he rolled over to the nearest tree. Finally he landed against the very tree.

Ric could swear he saw stars partying around his head, that day. That is, he would if he ever told anyone about what had happened. Which would not happen. He didn't want to speak of that. Ever.

It hurt. The hunter-turned-vampire/possibly-previously-a-ghost refrained from wincing, knowing it wouldn't do with the wounds on his face. It would only make it worse.

He was growing tired of major and/or painful wounds, that day. As if getting himself exploded because of a kamikaze hunter wasn't enough in one single day.

Alaric got back on his feet, and considered what he suspected to be the cause of his sudden pain. If that wasn't a proof he was alive again, he'd have to press charges. Against who, he wasn't sure, but he sure as hell wasn't okay with it if there weren't any positive effects. It hadn't happened when he was just a ghost, just like he hadn't needed to feed! If he had gotten all the bad sides of being alive, without actually being alive, he swore...!

Hum, apparently Damon would have to do as the accused. If his boyfriend had gotten him to live again, he was going to thank the vampire so much he would beg for him to stop, but if it wasn't the case... There would be hell to pay.

Anyway.

Ric walked until he reached the end of the tree's shadow, and reached out slowly.

An instant later, he hissed in pain, pulling his hand back to himself. Yep. No mistaking it.

He was burning with the sunlight. 100% vampire, 0% ghost. And no daylight ring.

Damnit.

Still, he wasn't going to give up on taking the sheriff's place chopping off heads. He was going to run through the pain and places without shadows, and he'd just be cranky enough, and fuming enough like literally, to really enjoy getting rid of the ghostly parasites... Repeatedly.

Oh, this was going to be one glorious afternoon!

Alaric took a moment to collect himself, already eyeing what he could see of the path that awaited him if he wished to get to the clearing. He noted the places where he'd be forced to run through the sunlight, the route he could take to avoid being fried to a crisp too often.

He wasn't stuck in the shadows because of the sun, like a normal vampire would be. It didn't mean he enjoyed feeling his own flesh burn up and burn out as soon as he got away from the shadows.

One moment he was here, and the next he had blurred through half the distance he had been able to see from the boarding house. He ran, and did his best, even if he wasn't used to it yet, to watch for shadowed parts as he ran. Then, finally, he walked into the clearing.


	98. OWA, part 27: Unusual tools

**One world apart, part 27: Unusual tools**

Alaric swore as, quite obviously he might add, walking right into the clearing had just set him on fire. He had not thought of this. Retreating to the shadows of the trees, the Original squinted at the light that was blinding him a bit.

After a few seconds, he wasn't inconvenienced anymore. He didn't like the effects that being a vampire had on his sight. Not yet, anyway. He didn't like it at all. Maybe once he'd be used to it...

But for now, the slightest change in lighting was enough to send his mind into a hopeless spiral. He hadn't had that problem when he had been dead, certainly because at the time, dead vampire or not, he had seen through the Veil, not normally. There was a certain atmosphere to it, a tone he couldn't quite describe, an ambient screeching in the silence. Things that had told him he had been dead.

No matter, he liked being a vampire better than being dead, for now. He'd rather be human, mortal, not condemned to the Veil at the end of his life, but well. You don't always get what you want.

He'd know.

A smirk grew on his lips, and Alaric mentally blessed Elizabeth Forbes, sheriff of Mystic Falls, because the woman had had the sense to move her prisoners in the shadows of two isolated trees, not quite on the side of the clearing. Going there would burn him, but he wasn't going to have to wait a few dozens of meters away and race back and forth to behead any ghost coming back to himself short of becoming a flaming torch.

Eh. Maybe it was Magdalena's idea, after all. His cousin had been the first on guard-and-beheader duty. Anyway, it worked for the best. And at least, that way, if anyone stumbled onto the clearing during the day, the first thing they'd see would hopefully not be a row of chained men and women on blood-soaked ground watched over by an officer of the law.

Oh God, Ric hoped no one had come around here, and seen that. Himself, Damon, Stefan, Caroline and Elena could compel anyone to forget, but neither the sheriff nor Mag would have been able to. The two women would have had to tie up the wanderer too, lest he went into town and started spreading rumors about the demented lawyer/sheriff.

The hunter used his enhanced sight to check out the "victims". None was put apart from the others, and they all had their head choped off... Well, he guessed that meant no one had walked right into this madness. Or, if they had, they were as dead as the ghosts here, more so, even.

Seeing as he had no reason to believe either Mag or Liz Forbes had gone mental during the last hours, Alaric concluded nothing regrettable had happened.

Enough stalling. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to ignore the pain he knew would come.

He blurred to the two trees. The sun was burning his flesh, almost from the inside of his skin. He could feel a hole gnawing at itself in his left cheek. It wasn't something he liked. Only a few seconds to reach the sheriff and her prisoners, but it felt to him like days. Autocombustion did that to him, usually.

Then his skin stopped hissing an angry smoke, a blister blasted away on his forehead, and his blood actually managed to bleed down his face and hands without evaporating right away. Ric didn't think it should be something relieving, but hell, when had his life been normal?

Right, let's not answer that.

He stopped two feet after the limit of the shadows. His skin tingled a bit, yet, so he looked up. Well, the leaves weren't completely shadowing him. Here and there, there was a lone ray of light that passed through, but even then, the light was toned down enough that it barely made him wince.

Better than nothing, he guessed.

Alaric turned around.

Something much more dangerous than a wandering spot of light amongst the dense leaves greeted him, and he ducked without even thinking about it. Of course, it wouldn't have actually done any lasting damage, but still. Getting shot in the head at point blank wasn't something he'd enjoy, he guessed. And he didn't intend on finding out.

"Wait, sheriff! That's just me, Alaric."

Liz Forbes squinted at the newcomer, who had his back to the sun, and recognized Alaric Saltzman. She sighed, and put her gun away.

"Sorry. A ghost-werewolf strolled in half an hour ago, and well..."

The woman gestured vaguely to a poor ghost whose head had been blown apart not so long ago.

Ric arched both eyebrows, and whistled.

"I don't think he had expected this. Anyway, I'm here to take charge. The graduation ceremony should start soon, you should go. Caroline may be a vampire now, but she's a eighteen years old vampire, and she just finished high school. I'm pretty sure she'd want you to be here."

He glanced at the several bodies around them. There were seventeen ghosts, apparently, and he recognized at least eight of them. He wasn't quite sure if the blond without a face over there was actually who he thought he was. And he didn't want to know why the ghost didn't have a face anymore. He suspected it had something to do with getting shot down or up the face from too close.

"Even with a ghostly invasion going on."

The sheriff laughed drily, and handed him a bloodied machete.

"It works wonders. I'm considering adding it to the official uniform of the sheriff department."

It wouldn't be such a bad idea, actually, but Alaric guessed she'd have a hard time explaining it if someone asked. Keeping the supernatural under wraps really was taxing, sometimes.

The sheriff left, and Ric remained. He sighed loudly, and went to sit down against a tree trunc. When a head magically disappeared and reappeared on its original body, he would get up and chop it off again, mostly ignoring the shouting and other unpleasant words he got showered in with some prisoners. It wasn't like he was the one attacking people in the street for revenge, or worse, for no reason.

The work out was pleasant.

Then he picked up a voice, far away, that he knew not to come from the prisoners. For a moment, he considered blurring over there and compelling whoever it was to back away and go sight-seeing somewhere else. But he heard some special words, and recognized the voice.

Alaric tensed. He stood up. Better be prepared, just in case.

"Don't worry about it. We still have a few minutes to get to Caroline's graduation ceremony, and the smell of blood over here is so strong I can't ignore it. I don't want a slaughter happening today, when I've come to see her."

So, no scandal for Caroline's graduation. Alright. They could work on that. Hopefully, he'd just see what the blood was about, assume the hunter was just another ghost protecting his living friends, and walk by. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, but well. Alaric had an excuse, Esther-shaped.

Klaus walked into the clearing. His eyes zeroed on him. Surprise!

Ric felt his throat going dry. He did so not want to see the Original Hybrid right now...

In the blink of an eye, the hybrid was next to him, wariness obvious in his stance.

"What the bloody hell is the meaning of this?"

Alaric shrugged slightly.

"Ghost invasion. These lovely fellows were munching on the people, so we... put them in the corner, I'd say. It should be dealt with by tomorrow, and for now, I'm on guard duty, considering I would be hard to kill... again."

Before Klaus could say anything, the hunter added:

"I think Damon and Stefan woud appreciate some help watching over the graduation ceremony. Just in case a few of our dead enemies tried anything, you know?"

Concern immediately appared on the Original Hybrid's face. A body twitched a bit, probably about to come back to life. Klaus kicked it in the stomach. Then he looked back at the other Original; the only one who wasn't part of his family. He didn't seem to be totally convinced, but well.

The hunter shrugged again, his hands parted from his body as if in helplessness.

"I swear, I'm 100% sane, 0% psychopath. Death cured me, I suppose. Also, Caroline wasn't exactly expecting you to show up, but I'm certain she'll be delighted. Especially if you manage to save her life once more before the end of the day."

The look Klaus gave him was suspicious at best, but the older fanged-and-very-dangerous-guy didn't try to rip his heart out of his chest or anything like that. Alaric decided to see that as positive. They managed to act civil towards each other. One point for civilisation.

Klaus turned back to the kid who had followed him but not said a word. A teen, probably, just under twenty, perhaps. Or just above, if he looked young. It could happen. Probably a vampire, too, or perhaps a werewolf. As long as he didn't try to attack anyone, Alaric saw no reason to act unfriendly.

Good thing, considering what Klaus had in mind.

"You stay here, and wait for me. You can help dealing with the ghosts, too. That way at least we'll be sure these particular fiends won't be the one to ruin the party."

And Klaus disappeared. The hunter raised an eyebrow at the kid, and walked over to the twitching body. The head had almost finished reforming. It wasn't quite that yet, but...

"Looks like you've been ditched, kiddo. I suppose the Big Bad Wolf wanted to see Caroline without you hovering in the background."

Ric looked at his machete with appreciation. The blade hadn't even started to dull, despite being used to behead a bunch of monsters several times since the day before. He was almost certain it was Magdalena's. This woman had unusual tools, for a lawyer, in her suitcase.

Then again, he himself had unusual tools, for a teacher, in his apartment.

The kid was averting his eyes from the bodies. If he was a vampire, he had to be young, because rare were the vampires who flinched at the sight of blood. Damon usually said a fifth of them were named Stefan. Maybe the kid was a witch? After all, when Klaus had first come into town, it had been with his personal coven.

"I didn't know there were ghosts..."

Not a witch, then. They all knew about the Other Side, the Veil and what a supernatural being became after their death.

"They are the spirits of the supernatural beings who didn't pass on. Here, a lot of them hold a grudge, that's why they are a pain in the ass. Usually they can't manifest. But a powerful witch, with the right tools, and at the right time, can make them appear. Make them material. And since they are already dead, you have to keep on killing them to incapacitate them. That's what I'm doing right now. Making sure they don't go off and kill my friends, or innocent people."

The head was finally back into place, whole and ready to be cut off, again. Ric would have liked it if he had had the chance to do that with Connor Jordan, too, but the guy had been kind of too much blown to bits the first time around, so the three officers who knew about the supernatural other than the sheriff hadn't been able to get him here. The Original didn't like to think of the crazed hunter running around Mystic Falls, but what could he do?

Apparently he'd have to do with beheading Vaughn instead.

The other hunter opened his eyes suddenly, and bristled when he realized he couldn't move, chained up. Magdalena hadn't wanted to have to run after her prisoners, if they got revived without her noticing right away. Alaric could understand that.

"You! Let me go, right now! I have a mission to accomplish. The likes of you are all monsters, but Silas is the worst! It is my duty to rid the world of his being!"

Ric's face morphed into a frightening smile, too thin and too large to be honest.

"Not that I disagree about Silas being a monster, Vaughn, but we already took care of him. Now, you see, I don't like being called a monster, not any more than the average guy, at least, and I am already quite angry."

The Original put the edge of his machete on the hunter's neck, and crouched down a bit.

"You see, I've been resurrected a fair share of times. But I've also spent the last months on the Other Side, with the like of us monsters. And now I came back to life, and definitely, not like the rest of you material ghosts, one more time. But, try to understand. Even before being turned, I was a cursed man. A perfect killer, whether I wanted to be so or not. And being stuck in the Other Side..."

His smile disappeared, leaving his face cold and emotionless.

"It was infuriating. And at the same time, it felt like home."

Alaric stood up again, and raised the machete high above his head. There was no asking what for.

"And guess what, hunter of the Five? I miss home."

The blade sliced through air, and then through flesh. A head fell. The kid turned slightly green.


	99. OWA, part 28: A hassle to handle

_So, there will be one more chapter to this part, and then you'll have to wait for me to sort out part 4, "Under pressure"_

 _Also, I've been waiting for a long time for this to happen._

 _And my thirteen years old dog has a tumor. He's a red cocker spaniel I've had for twelve years and a half. There's nothing to be done, the tumor is too big. We'll have to put him to sleep. My mom already did that once with her german sheperd, before I was even born. Why can't we have dogs who just die in their sleep?_

* * *

 **One world apart, part 28: A hassle to handle**

Connor Jordan may be a bastard, according to some, but no one had ever accused him of being a fool.

Unlike the others ghosts, he had stood apart and watched, when they had gone after the Mystic Gang. He wasn't against killing them, quite the contrary, but they weren't his target that day. He had a much bigger mission to accomplish. Him, and the other hunters of the Five. He had been surprised to see only a few of his Brotherhood had held on until this day on the Other Side, but he guessed even supernaturally obsessed people could somehow find peace after a few centuries. And there was also the fact that the others could very well be somewhere else, outside of the Expression Triangle.

Connor had been right to stay out of the ghosts' revenge, after his first... exploding attempt. Qetsiyah had been painfully clear. His mission wasn't to end every vampire on earth, this time, but to get rid of the Immortal, Silas, by curing him. In a way, the hunter could understand the witch's opinion. Silas couldn't reproduce like vampires did, but he was still a blood-sucking monster. And one who had way too much power at hand.

The ghost watched, discreetly hiding under the bleachers, as Klaus Mikaelson came around and got temporarily rid of all the ghosts around. Connor knew from first-hand experience that it wasn't a good idea to get killed, even as a ghost. It'd take too much time to come back to "life", and he had no time to lose. Any minute passed without consciousness was a chance for his current target to get out of reach.

The dead hunter squinted at the figure of Damon Salvatore, bloodied hands, and the cadaver of a ghost at his feet. His target was standing just here, only a few dozens of meters away.

But he couldn't make his move right away. Trying to abduct the vampire right now, even with a gun loaded with wooden bullets that had been dipped into werewolf's poison, would be stupid. Half the monster's monster friends were around, and the Original Hybrid was there too.

Connor may be dead, but he wasn't suicidal for all that.

Again, getting killed would make him waste time.

He waited a bit, and was rewarded with the sight of the group dissolving. The hybrid and the blonde vampire left on their own, while the other teens went to... well, he had no idea. That left Damon Salvatore and the town's sheriff, staring in annoyance at the numerous bodies of people who had already been dead, even before getting killed. If the hunter had allowed himself to have feelings, he might have felt sorry for them. It really looked like a hassle to handle.

Connor focused, and managed to hear something that sounded like "I'm going to call for the deputies.". It made sense. The sheriff would have have a hard time taking care of all these bodies on her own, or even with the vampire's help. And if she knew about the supernatural, it wouldn't be so surprising if some of her men did too.

This whole town was obviously infested by the supernatural, and apparently some of the inhabitants had known for some time already.

Anyway, it worked in the hunter's favor.

The sheriff left, and there was only Damon Salvatore left. Connor fiddled for a moment with the Cure, hidden in his pocket, before finally making his move. The Salvatore brothers were the ones who had taken the Immortal away...So he would just ask, nicely at that, where to find Silas.

In a swift move, the ghost got out of his hiding place. The vampire turned around at the sudden noise. Connor threw a knife at Salvatore's back before the vampire could see him properly.

Damon felt something pierce his jacket, and a burning sensation suddenly overrode all his other senses. It took him less than three seconds to recognize the unpleasant feeling of vervein scorching at his skin and flesh, burning it away repeatedly, almost faster than he healed. It wasn't quite the same pain as when he had tried to burn himself by sunlight, one year ago. He still had his ring on.

The vampire blindly reached at his own back, searching for whatever it was that had injured him, and had let the vervein in. In another situation he could have easily known if it was a blade or a bullet, but the burn of the vervein blurred all his other senses.

He had fallen to his knees, and was barely able not to just go head first to the ground.

Luckily, he had started to drink vervein some time ago already. It hadn't made him immune, far from it, but at least it protected him from the Originals' compulsion. As there was only Rebekah left in town, he hadn't taken any lately, but he still was used to the effects.

Already his sight was getting better. He was light-headed, and he couldn't really see traight ahead. There was less vervein in this shot than in Elena's, luckily. What was the deal with people and vervein, today? They were all out for his blood, or what?

His hand touched something cold, and Damon managed to get a grip on the handle of some knife. At the same moment, he recognized the vaguely blurred face of Connor Jordan, vampire hunter extraordinaire, and currently a ghost.

Go figure. If someone was to take him down with a verveined knife, who else could it have been?

Though it seemed a bit strange. Why hadn't the ghost killed him already? Did he want to know something?

When the hunter spoke, his voice echoed a bit to Damon's addled sense of hearing.

" _Long time no see, Salvatore. Though, I've been watching you and your gang, even from the Other Side. I have to admit you know how to blend in, for a monster."_

Damon snorted, or at least he tried to. He wasn't sure a snort was supposed to sound like that, but unfortunately, he was in no state to do any better.

"So you're a stalker ghost. Wonderful. You should put it on your CV. Oh, wait, you're dead."

Jordan ignored the bait. Instead, he crouched down, so Damon was better able to see the man's face.

" _But no matter how many people you guys don't kill, there are always one or two people who suffer from your very existence. If I didn't have a more important matter to attend to, I'd cut your head off here and now."_

"Happy to feel loved. And no, I don't care what Vaughn and you other Brotherhood of the Five Knuckleheads want to do with Silas and the Cure. We took care of Silas. You don't have to un-immortalize him."

The black man gave him a hard stare, and Damon knew it wouldn't be that easy. It never was, especially not with people as obsessed as Connor Jordan had been.

The vampire hunter grabbed him by the shoulder, and pulled up. Before he could tell how or why exactly, Damon was on his two feet, his legs wobbling dangerously, and a gun at his back. Probably poisoned bullets, at that. Oh man... Why did the world hate him so much?

Jordan pushed him to walk, holding strongly onto his arm. The ghost was probably all that was keeping Damon upright, because his whole body really felt like jello. Slightly self-combusting jello, with the vervein in his system, but jello nonetheless.

Very attractive jello, too.

Not that Ric was anywhere around to see his jello boyfriend wobble around. A shame. The Original would have taken care of the ghost in a blink, like last time. Jordan sure looked like he wouldn't pay attention to anyone else than Damon right now, not before it was too late for him anyway.

" _You're going to show me where you guys 'stashed' the Immortal. I have the Cure on me, and I just have to give it to him, then gank his sorry ass. Don't worry, you are next in line."_

Oh, but Damon did worry. He didn't want his perfect ass to be ganked. He had a lot of things he wanted to do with his perfect ass.

But even if Jordan did not gank his perfect ass, he realized sadly, the only person he wanted to do these things with was not around either. Not for long, if anything. The vampire doubted he'd get another... great time with his lover before the Veil fell back into place.

Maybe it was the vervein making him moody, but Damon felt like pouting at the ghost.

The hunter yanked at his arm, and they started walking, or, really, wobbling for him, out of here. Jordan pressed the gun more firmly against Damon's back.

" _You don't get a choice, pretty boy. I'm sure you don't want to see for yourself what werewolf poison do to a vampire."_

Damon tripped on a root.

"Done that already. It didn't stick around."

The ghost said nothing to that, and only pushed him harder. Damon wasn't happy with the situation, but what could he do? He guessed the best was to lead the crazed hunter to the place where they intended to get rif of Silas, but where they hadn't yet, because well, no time and all that. It would take some time, and while Jordan would be busy being led around, he wouldn't be threatening someone else. Beside, it wasn't as if Damon had much to live for. If the ghost shot him once he understood what was really going on, so be it. The vampire had lived already, and while he'd like to continue to watch over the kids, he was certain they could manage without him.

As the ghost and the vampire slowly left the football field, two people arrived at the scene by the other side. They saw the bodies of the ghosts, and the guy who was pushing another one around.

They shared a look of concern, and quietly made their way through the field to follow the two men.

They had been searching for Damon, and had encountered the girls on their way. Elena had been surprised, but happy to see them. They had quickly explained that a woman had somehow gotten them out before leaving town, and Bonnie had told them it was probably Ariane, a grim reaper. Apparently, she had some control over souls, being what she was. Bonnie had talked about them to her... Perhaps the reaper had wanted to do them a last favor before leaving. Or at least had tried to, and it had worked. The two were quite pleased with the results. They wouldn't complain, because, really, while they hadn't been dead, they hadn't been in the world either. It was good to be out.

One of the two particularly enjoyed the sunlight. Back there it hadn't been the same. It had been sunlight, but not like that.

A ghost would say the Other Side wasn't just another layer of the world, because there was something different, some underlying and ubiquitous noise in the background, something wrong with the light. Where they had been, it was kind of the same, just not in the same way. No background sounds, no faulty light, true, but nothing had ever really felt alive. They had been completely alone. It had been a bit like living in a painting. The other characters can't see you, they don't move, and if you move around them, you notice they are blank on the other side. They are nothing but a copy of the real world.

At least they had been together. But still, after some time, it had been boring. Depressing. They might have ended their days, at some point, hadn't they been there, had they been able to. Of course, hadn't they been there, they wouldn't have had a reason to kill themselves, considering they would either be in the real world, or, more probable, they'd be dead.

Damon had saved them, unwittingly, perhaps, and not in a way anyone would have wished for, but he had saved them, by getting them in their prison. And they were his friends. They didn't intend on letting him be manhandled by anyone. Except Saltzman, perhaps, considering they didn't really have a right to say anything about what happened in the bedroom, but either way...

Maybe this time, it was finally their turn to save their friend.

Both knew they couldn't just waltz in between the man and the vampire and get the bad guy off their friend. It didn't work like that. They knew the black man was at least a hunter, if not more, and it was propable his gun wasn't loaded with just anything. Moreover they were mortal, and not particularly strong or quick. They had other abilities, true, but none that would be helpful here.

Getting themselves killed wouldn't help Damon much.

Once upon a time, one of the two might have had a chance, but now...

They followed the man and the vampire to a car. They almost panicked, realizing they wouldn't be able to follow them if the man decided to drive, but the youngest of the two had an idea. They hurried to the car, to get there before the man drove away.

Just before leaving, Connor Jordan looked around one last time. He had stuffed the vampire on the passenger seat, before giving him another shot of vervein, and didn't particularly want someone to come around ad ask if his "friend" was feeling ill.

He thought he had seen someone walk behind in car, and cursed under his breath. It really wasn't the moment. But when he walked around the car, gun in hand, no one was there to be seen. Maybe it had only been his imagination. Or his paranoia, really.

The two sighed. He hadn't seen them.

The man drove to a quarry, and he and Damon walked to the water. Knowing they couldn't come just from behind him, they moved around the quarry, and looked deeply into the water reflections.

Damon could feel his last moment coming, as Jordan threatened him one more time.

Then, something burst out of the water behind the ghost, grabbed the hunter, and pulled him under.


	100. OWA, part 29: To come back

_Last chapter of One world apart, guys._

* * *

 **One world apart, part 29: To come back**

Damon stared, wide-eyed, at the place Connor Jordan had been standing, only a few minutes before. The place where four hands had appeared and grabbed the ghost. Just in front of the clouded water where the ghost had been pulled under.

The vampire wasn't sure exactly of what had happened. He only knew he had gotten Jordan to a small beach of the quarry, on the other side of where they had intended to get rid of Silas, later. He had been expecting to be shot, probably with werewolf-poison-laced bullets, and to die like that. Or maybe he'd have been able to save himself at the last minute. It didn't really matter, at this point.

What mattered was that he hadn't expected some unknown beings to draw the ghost underwater and save his life in the process. What mattered was that he had no idea who and what were the people who had saved him.

His mind was unclouding a bit, and he managed to stand upright without his abductor's help, for once. Not that he had an abductor anymore. Wary, he took two steps back from the shore. Just in case. Because they had taken care of Jordan didn't mean they were here to save him.

After a minute or so, Damon wasn't sure, because he was still under the influence of the vervein, the water shimmered, and all of a sudden, two women emerged from it. Their soaked clothes and hair were falling all over there features, which didn't seem to please them. One had short, dark brown hair, the other had blondish brown hair. There was definitely something familiar with them, but right now Damon couldn't say what.

They were also bleeding in several places, as if they had been cut all over their body. It didn't seem to be a pleasant experience. The vampire would know, actually.

They had yet to look at him.

"I'm not ever doing that again! Not. Ever. Again!"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, but it's not a mirror. It's water. The reflections are fragmentary at best! Meaning, we were fragmentary too! Did you even look at your wounds?"

Oh. He knew these voices. He had no idea how it was possible, but he knew these voices. He knew these women.

Even if they weren't supposed to be here.

Not that he'd complain.

Damon felt his balance shift for some reason, and almost landed right back face in the ground. Two hands got a hold of him before that happened. He didn't fall.

Andie helped her friend to stay up as she could, while Rose slapped him back and smacked him forth. Not too hard, obviously, but hard enough to keep him awake. It wasn't as if any damage would last on his vampire body, anyway. Rose may not be a vampire anymore, but she hadn't forgotten what it meant to be one.

"Eh, no point in doing that... That guy almost roofied him with vervain. We'll just get him into the car, and drive back to Mystic Falls. With a bit of luck, he won't be out of it much longer."

Damon tried to say something, but he felt bad. Very bad. He had no recollection of reacting like that to vervein, not even once. Maybe Jordan had added things to the plant. Who knew, there could be another plant that made it more effective...? Or maybe it was because he was getting verveined too often lately. Though he was pretty sure to have known worse...

No words got past his mouth, only a disgusting gurgle. He stopped trying.

Rose tore her eyes away from her drugged friend, and laughed a bit.

"Damon Salvatore speechless. That's a new one."

Andie sighed, looked at herself, and mourned her clothes. She only hoped they wouldn't get anyone's attention on the way back, because they sure didn't look like normal citizen right now. Herself, she had disappeared something like one year ago, almost. They were covered in small injuries, soaked to the bone, Damon looked like he had been roofied, and the car wasn't theirs. What could go wrong?

"Let's go to the boarding house. It's not right in the middle of town, so there's that, at least. Maybe no one will see us. And I'm pretty sure we could borrow decent clothes from Damon, even if it won't be our kind of things."

Rose agreed, and let Andie drive. She hadn't had the possiblity to do much driving, when she had been a vampire, because it needed her to have tinted windows on the car, which was rarely hers to begin with. And Trevor had been the one enthusiastic to learn.

When they got to the boarding house, there was absolutely no one around in the neighborhood. Better for them, they guessed. They dragged the inconscious vampire inside, and let him on the nearest sofa. Rose had completely forgotten how heavy things could be to human beings.

Considering they were human. Neither Rose nor Andie would have bet on that, not with what they could do, now. They didn't know how much they could do, actually, but they knew no human could do that...

Now, the question was, were they human nonetheless, like witches and doppelgangers, or were they just something else, like werewolves?

A door creaked on the first floor, and the two women looked up, wary. Damon didn't usually invite his enemies in, but these enemies didn't always wait for his authorization either.

Who they saw immediately calmed them. Not that looks couldn't hide power, but because the red-headed woman was looking at them with bleared eyes. She was obviously wounded, if the white-turned-reddish bandage on her leg said anything. She wasn't a vampire, of that they could be sure.

Bleared or not, the woman's eyes flashed with recognition when her eyes landed on Damon. In a moment she looked alert. She walked down the stairs as fast as she could, and joined them.

"What happened?"

"A psycho got him, possibly in the spine, with a vervained blade. He should be fine soon enough."

The red head almost rolled her eyes, and sat down in an armchair. She looked exhausted.

"What else is new? I take a werewolf bullet in the leg for him this morning, and he gets himself stabbed with vervein this afternoon! Did you save his life too? This guy can't take care of himself..."

Rose and Andie stared at the woman in surprise, reconsidering her wound under a new angle, but a chuckle kept them from saying anything.

"Men in general can't take care of themselves, it's not only me, Magdalena."

They all turned around to look at Damon, who was finally awake. He was pale, and didn't look like he'd stand up any time soon, but knowing him and his vampire cheating body, he'd be on his two feet before an hour. Rose swatted him on the head, just on principle.

"Don't you dare do us such a fear again, fool."

The vampire only smiled weakly. Then his brow creased, and he took a better look at the three women. Two of whom he was certain weren't supposed to be here.

"Weren't you...?"

Andie sat down, relieved, and smiled at him. It was weird to see her smile when she was covered in small amounts of blood here and there. Andie had never been the one Damon would have pictured tangled in the supernatural, not even after he had gotten her in it.

"You friend, Ariane. She found the mirror a few days ago, and she took it without telling you, just in case there was nothing to do. She showed it to a witch friend out of town. Together they found out how to get us out, she came back to where our accidents had happened, and well... Here we are."

Damon noted in a corner of his mind to thank Ariane again for what she had done when he'd see her. Then he remembered that once more, she wouldn't want to see him before a few decades. He felt strangely guilty for what had just happened with the reaper, but said nothing of it.

"And... you saved me?"

The two women shared a look before answering.

"Yeah. We saw that guy take you out of the football field, and we followed."

Something didn't add up. If the two had seen him so soon, why hadn't they intervened? Not that he wished they had, because none of them had any idea of how dangerous Connor Jordan was, but still, it would have been logical to take care of things sooner, from their point of view.

"Coudn't you have just broken his neck or somehing, Rose?"

She looked uneasy for a moment. Then she gestured at herself, at her bruised and battered body. Damon suddenly understood what wasn't right with her. He had no idea of how it had happened, but there was no denying it.

"You're not a vampire anymore."

He had said it flatly, a bit of surprise failing to be heard in his tone, but his lack of apparent reaction saying enough.

Rose nodded, but Andie was the one to talk.

"We're not sure we are human either, you know. When your friend pulled us out of the mirror, she told us we wouldn't be the same as before, and she was right. Somehow, it's as if we still have the potential to be inside reflections, if you see what I mean. We didn't actually follow the car when you went to the quarry; we crossed into the wing mirror, and we let that guy drive us too. Then when we pulled him under, we were in fact in the reflections of the water, and we crossed back into this world."

Rose put her left arm nearer, and Damon could see that her wounds looked more like the body had been folded unnaturally. The skin was bruised under the pressure, and the skin seemed to have cracked open, not to have been cut.

"That's why we're in this state. Reflections on water aren't flat or unique, and well... I won't be doing that again any time soon. Consider yourself lucky we had no idea of what it'd do to us."

"Nah, you'd have saved me anyway."

Damon was teasing her, and Rose pouted, as if to say "we'll see". Still, knowing he was the reason they were both in this state, the vampire couldn't help but to offer some of his blood.

"Maybe it won't work. It doesn't work on werewolves."

"Let's try anyway."

Two minutes later, Andie and Rose were in perfect shape, forgetting the fact that they looked like refugees from Katrina right after the storm, who'd have been rescued after their house had fallen on them. Magdalena left to get them some feminine clothes, while they were taking a shower. They needed it.

Damon stayed on the sofa for a time. He still wasn't alright, but he wasn't feeling bad either.

After one quarter of hour of doing absolutely nothing, his phone rang. He idly wondered what was taking the girls so much time to get clean, but let go of that thought when he saw the number calling him. In less than a second, he was talking to Alaric.

"Is something wrong?"

" _How sad is that, that whenever someone call, our first question is if something went awry?"_

Damon's latest feeling of fear dissipated. Still, he was a bit anxious. He had just gotten back two of his best friends, but now he couldn't forget that Alaric, him, would leave again. The nexus ring had reacted when he had held onto Ariane: the center stone made of their mixed blood had somehow evaporated into nothingness. The vampire doubted it was still good for anything.

"Very sad. So, I guess everything is alright?"

" _Hum, yeah. No problem. Just..."_

Someone grunted in the background, and Damon heard Ric curse under his breath. The next moment, their was the sound of a sharpened blade cutting into flesh, and something heavy was smashed on the ground. Or maybe it just fell heavily, the vampire wasn't really sure.

" _...Sorry. An hybrid was waking up. So, I was saying. I..."_

There was a pause, as if Alaric was holding his breath, unable to speak for a time.

" _I'm pretty sure drinking your blood got me back amongst the living, Damon."_

The vampire dropped his cellphone at the news. He stared at it for a dozen of seconds, and finally managed to take it back into his hands. He fumbled a bit with his words after that, though.

"You... you... you're certain?"

Alaric paused dramatically on the other side of the communication. It was likely he wasn't doing it on purpose, true, but Damon's heart raced nonetheless.

Finally there was an answer, not as definitive as the vampire would have liked, but good enough for now. Anyway, they'd know soon enough...

" _There's no way to be certain, Damon, but I don't feel like I'm on the other side anymore."_

Damon spent the rest of the day in euphoria, waiting for Ric to come back when things would have ended. When Elena called, saying Stefan wasn't answering, he told her he was just busy with Silas.

* * *

 _The next part will most likely be named "Under pressure"._  
 _It will be the most AU part of this story, even considering that every part is more AU with the changes from the preceding parts of the story. Like, I'm going to completely erase some things, not just to change them. I will be adding some other things. OCs, stories... like always, I suppose, just, more._  
 _As a consequence, it may take me more time to correctly plan out part 4. I can't say._

 _Also, meanwhile I will be posting a short(er) story, seven chapters, possibly once a week. If we're lucky, I'll be ready to start part 4 once that story ends._


End file.
